


Chains of Namelessness

by secretroom



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Aftermath of Amputation, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Backstory, Canon Disabled Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Childhood Trauma, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Multi, Prostitution, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:34:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 71,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29693694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretroom/pseuds/secretroom
Summary: "“I slew the fucking dragon so that it could never haunt me again, but the darn act just brought it all down and now… it’s just there. It’s always right there.”It was like a damn had broken and Silver was no longer able to hold anything back."A story of two men falling in love through betrayal and forgiveness. Can they break the chains that bound them to a narrative of shame and denial?This is an alternate version starting at season 2 episode 7. I took drastic liberties with history and invented a whole island. I might also have saved some characters, who died in the show and I played with the time frame.
Relationships: Captain Flint | James McGraw/John Silver, John Silver/Original Character(s), Madi & John Silver (Black Sails), Miranda Barlow & Captain Flint | James McGraw
Comments: 18
Kudos: 13





	1. Chains of Desire

**Author's Note:**

> I know I’m late to the party, but I only watched the show a couple of months ago and I’m hooked. Black Sails might be the best written show I’ve seen till now. What brilliant character development! I had no complains, when it ended and simply wished we would have gotten one more season, maybe between season three and four to make it perfect. There were just a few characters, who needed to interact more, or at all. I just had to write something to get the show out of my head – though I’m still waiting for that to happen.
> 
> The incorporation of all the character’s backstories was a delight to watch, but I was sad that Silver never got one. Mere allusions and the whole “I’m no-one from nowhere- stigma” just isn’t enough for me 😉
> 
> Therefore, I spiced my self-indulgent Flint/Silver fanfic with a slow-paced reveal of Silver’s past. I always seem to write very dark backstories, so be warned. It should also warn you that English isn’t my native language and that this story had no beta-reader. So, all mistakes are mine.
> 
> I will post the full story over the next couple of days. Each chapter will have additional warnings in the end-note section. So, if you are easily triggered, please read them first. Please tell me, if I should add more warnings.
> 
> Kudos, comments and constructive criticism are highly appreciated!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please check the end notes for additional warnings, if you are easily triggered.

* * * Flint * * *

“Really, James”, Miranda sighed sitting behind him, while he paced up and down of his little hut at the beach.

Flint knew that he was being unreasonable and that Miranda was getting fat up just a bit. Not that it stopped his tracks. There was just too much nervous energy in his veins for him to sit down. The hunt for the _Urca_ , Gates, Vane and Abigale Ash and now this… Flint couldn’t catch a fucking break it seemed.

He blamed Silver. It was his fault, damn it! Of course, it was. The little shit made everything more complicated. It was his reason for existing, Flint was sure of it. Why else would he taunt Flint in such a matter?

Not that Silver had known that Flint would be witness to his free time exercises or that his extrapolates would have such an effect on Flint.

Truth be told, Flint didn’t think he would have such an intense reaction to it. His behavior was outright ridiculous. He wasn’t twelve anymore, goddamn it! Some naked flesh and obscene sounds shouldn’t disturb him. It must be the stress. All that pent-up energy needed some kind of outlet and Silver and his extravagant avocation was the perfect target.

He should have listened to Miranda.

If he had only not been so angry, he might have had the sense to wait until morning. Seriously, what had he expected? If you’re told that your cook currently resides in a room in the brothel, one should assume to find someone in a compromising situation. But Flint had just had enough. Eleanor was still talking with Vane to release Abigale, while Flint had to manage the crew – well, he actually had only to wait, which was the reason he had allowed Silver some time off. Silver had already seen to the crew’s need for the evening. In fact, the cooks continued efforts had ensured Flint the crew’s loyalty for their next endeavor. After weeks Flint had finally some time for himself and Miranda. They had talked about what had happened in their time apart and one thing had led to another. Miranda taking an interest in Silver as she heard about his involvement had enraged Flint for some weird reason and Flint had a sudden idea he had wanted to discuss with Silver.

It wasn’t really urgent, but like anything else Flint wanted it done now and had stormed off with Miranda on his coat’s tail to the brothel, where he had been told about his cook’s whereabouts. Apparently, Silver had received an invitation for a little tryst with Max. Miranda tried to stop him, Flint however had been irritated. Something about the idea of Silver having fun, while Flint had trouble to quiet his mind had fueled his determination to find the little shit, if only to yell at him, until all his frustration had subsided.

Thus, Flint had barged into the small side room that connected to larger rooms with massive beds clearly meant to be used for one activity and one activity alone – an orgy. The door to the occupied room on his left had been open wide enough to present Flint with an image that branded itself unto his irises.

There on the bed lay Silver between Max’s legs obviously pleasuring her with his mouth, which had her shivering over her whole body. Her moans were halfway swallowed by a blonde woman, who was kissing her, while a man, who Flint had previously seen with Silver talking at the beach, was fingering the blonde.

No one had registered Flint’s entrance, all to enthralled in their pursuit of ecstasy. This left Flint with an unobtrusive view of Silver’s firm butt and his muscular back, the well-defined muscles moving under his tanned skin, while he was caressing Max’s thighs and breasts. Silver seemed to know what he was doing, if Max’s twitching body was anything to go by. She had grabbed Silver’s hair and was pushing him deeper. Her finger’s coiling in the dark curls that made Flint’s own hands twitch in jealousy.

Max apparently wanted to prolong her orgasm and pushed Silver away whereby also stopping the blonde from kissing her. Swiftly everyone changed positions, which left the blonde finger fucking Max, while she was sucking Silver. One hand massaging his balls and the other holding his thigh. The other man had taking hold of Silver’s hair and tucked his head back to kiss him. Silver’s back was pressed hard against the man’s chest. Clever fingers playing with Silver’s nipples with one hand, while he was fucking Silver with the fingers of the other.

Silver’s open lustful expression was truly a sight to behold and Flint would had paid a fortune to have this image as painting. The way his muscles contracted, the erotic undulation of his body and the lewd meeting of tongues was maybe the most erotic thing Flint had ever seen. Silver bit gently at the other man’s bottom-lip, which was met by a throaty groan and another finger in Silver’s hole. That had Silver throwing his head back on the man’s shoulder, moaning loudly enough for Flint to flinch. Never had he made so much noise in bed. The fear of discovery too great even in the Hamilton’s own home. Many times, Flint had left with bruises on his shoulder, where Thomas had bitten so that he didn’t scream, when he came. In this moment Flint could even taste the coppery taste of blood in his mouth from biting his lips in his own attempt to stay quiet. These four didn’t hold back, completely unashamed in voicing their delight.

Time had slowed down and Flint couldn’t say how long he had watched transfixed, before Miranda had followed him upstairs, finding him staring frozen to the spot at the four completely entangled people on the large bed. Miranda, at least, had recovered faster and had gently pushed him to the back door, but not after smiling appreciatively at the scene and letting her eyes wander along the sweaty bodies.

In that moment Silver opened his eyes glancing towards them. His eyes pitch black looked more confused than shocked. Flint felt his face reddening and Silver closed his eyes again, when the man behind him added a third finger, letting out a deep moan. It was that sound that shook Flint awake and he had fled the brothel in quick steps.

It wasn’t really the shock about Silver sleeping with both men and women. Making the best out of every circumstance seems to be his life’s motto. The little thief could find enjoyment in any situation or person and truth be told, Silver was attractive. It was hard to miss, just as the stares that followed his cook/propagandists. Silver would naturally have no issues to find willing bedpartners. If Silver wanted some fun on his time off, that was his prerogative. Why, then not find relief in a man… or an orgy?

Flint had stumbled on a number of men on sea partaking in a fuck of some kind. Really, even in the Royal Navy – the bloody hypocrites. What he had just seen however was different. It had been unapologetic and so very intimate. Four people driven solely by their desire to experience pleasure together. It was as foreign to Flint as it was familiar.

“You forgot to mention how handsome your cook is.”

Naturally, she would highlight this detail. She really delighted in torturing him for his preferences, although she would call it a necessary intervention. Not once had he acted on his desires since Thomas died. It seemed wrong to share such intimacy with another after what he and Thomas had shared. Miranda of course just saw it as proof that he was still ashamed. Over the years she had tried relentlessly at times to propel him into the pursuit of happiness. But what happiness could he possibly find in a stranger’s arms?

Not that Miranda ever conceded his reasoning.

“Based on your report that culminates into a very appealing package. Attractive, creative and smart. I see, why you’re so smitten with him.”

That was enough, Flint decided and turned around on the spot. “I’m not smitten with him! He is a conniving lying self-serving thief.”

One of Miranda’s elegant eyebrows raised in mock amusement. “So, he is a pirate?”

Christ! This woman would be his death one day!

Exhaling deeply in an effort to calm himself, he tried to explain the danger Silver posed. “You cannot trust him, Miranda. He plays on his innocent looks to manipulate others and twists one’s thoughts through his tales.”

“Like you manipulate through intimidation and literary allusions?”, she countered and he cursed her ability to cut through every argument he made.

In this instance however, Flint needed her to accept his insight into men like Silver. He couldn’t risk her falling for a con artist. She might be adept at reading people and detected liars even better than him, but Miranda had never dealt with people outside high society. The lies of ordinary men were different, Flint reasoned and the mere idea that he was anything like Silver was obnoxious.

“You can’t compare us! I’m trying to change the world, to make Thomas’ dream reality! Silver is only in it for himself and will do everything to survive and further his goals!”

Miranda just shrugged. “I think surviving is a sensible goal in life, especially if you had to fight for it from a small age, which I’d wager was the case with Silver. His instincts are too ingrained in his every action as this to be a recently developed skill.”

“I don’t begrudge him for his survival instincts”, Flint muttered through his teeth.

“Just his lack of idealism?”, she asked and laughed as though his incitement was invalid. Upon seeing his face, she sighed and came to stand in front of him. Her eyes imploring him to listen. “James, if you had never met Thomas, could you really say that you would strive for idealistic goals?”

His first instinct was to deny such a notion. All he had done was to accomplish the impossible for Thomas, for his legacy. Her soft gaze however gave him pause. His deeds of the last ten years had undoubtedly been for Thomas or at least most of it. Flint couldn’t burden Thomas’ dream with all of his actions or outright mistakes. Before, however… Flint had certainly tried is best to better himself and further his status in order to be accepted as an equal among the peers. His motivations though were fueled by pride. Idealism had nothing to do with it. All to clear were his failings in reigning in his deeply rooted drives for fighting and anger that he could disavow his demons. Only his status in the military had been of interest for him. It’s codex and values adopted to serve the goal of being recognized by people, who would have never looked twice at him as a carpenter. There was more of course, yet… Miranda was right in so far that Thomas had taught him noble principles of true devotion and compassion devoid of ulterior motives. It was him, who had planted the seed of idealism into his very nature, no matter how deep his soul had dived into the darkness.

Flint’s silence was as much an answer as his expression must have been, because Miranda smiled ruefully and laid a comforting hand on his chest to anchor him in the here and now.

“Why, then are you punishing Silver for never meeting someone, who inspires ideals?”, she asked and he had to concede that it was likely that Silver had probably never had much of a role model in his life. Flint didn’t know whether the story about the orphanage was true or not, although he doubted it. Nonetheless, Silver’s behavior implied that he had to overcome many obstacles in his young life. Everything he knew was very likely self-taught.

It didn’t absolve him, but it put a different light to his actions and Flint had to wonder how different Silver might be, if he had had the chance to be nurtured and supported.

“Maybe you could even be the one to show him a different way”, Miranda implied and Flint snorted, “I’m not Thomas.”

Captain Flint didn’t inspire people, at least not to greatness.

“No”, she agreed at once and the sadness in her eyes cut through his heart. Flint knew that she didn’t want to hurt him just as he never meant to hurt her, though they both were culpable of doing exactly that.

Her free hand lifted his chin up to meet her eyes once more. “But it might be to your advantage. You understand men like Silver better than Thomas ever could.”

Flint huffed in annoyance. Couldn’t she leave it alone? “Why would that even matter? If we’re lucky, we’ll be on our way to Charlestown and who knows what will happen there.”

“It is never futile to hope for the best and see a future. A future where Nassau and hence you could need a man like Silver”, she admonished in her quiet but insistent way, before Miranda leaned closer and whispered into his ear, “Or he could be a fascinating way to pass the time and relief yourself from all this energy you bottled up.”

Flint flinched and stared at her in mild shock. “Don’t be ridiculous!”

“Am I?” There was definitely that devilish glance in her gaze now that never bode well. “He seems to know what he is doing.”

Just before he could chide her, Miranda grew serious, “I know I’m not enough. Just like you are not enough for me. We have lost our way since Thomas died. We share our grief and his memories. We anchor ourselves to our past lives but nothing more… I need more, James, and so do you.”

“Miranda”, Flint whispered close to agony upon hearing what he had feared, but knew for quite some time now.

He wasn’t enough for her. He knew that and it wasn’t fair on her to reduce her to the role of a wife, who waited for a shell of a man to come back home to her. Yet, that was their existence as of late. The comfort they could give one another had grown stale. It hurt and there was nothing he could do to undue the past.

Flint had failed Thomas in this respect. He couldn’t fail him with Nassau too.

“We will save Nassau for him and then, we will do everything to find an ounce of happiness.”

Miranda looked less than convinced having heard these very words too often, but Abigale was their chance. A real possibility to end the martyrium.

* * *

Silver had just given his latest report on the crew and was now waiting to be dismissed. Flint however was trapped in his memory of last night and had a hard time to focus on a word Silver spoke. Images of Silver naked against that stranger’s chest flashed unnervingly before his eyes.

He had apparently stayed silent for too long at some point, as Silver interjected into his thoughts about how responsive Silver had been, “If you want to ask me something, Captain, I’d suggest you do so.”

His tone was remarkably calm for someone, who had been caught having a foursome including one man, which was one aspect that wouldn’t leave Flint.

“You sleep with men?”

The question was rather pointless, but for some reason Flint needed to hear Silver admitting to it. It was a cruel question and Flint regretted the question as soon as he uttered it.

But true to form Silver didn’t seem one bit disturbed by his directness and merely shrugged, leaning back on the chair.

“I sleep with people I find attractive and who likewise find me attractive whether they are a woman or a man doesn’t really matter to me.”

“Just like that?” It seemed so easy, when he said it.

“I guess I always see a person. Gender, skin color or nationality just never mattered to me. Although women are usually saver at least in terms of the law”, Silver answered thoughtfully looking out to the beach, where the men were working. “But here people don’t seem to care.”

It was true enough that Nassau had no law against homosexuality or any law that was strictly enforced.

“Are you shocked now?”, Silver inquired and looked honestly curious now.

“No.” Flint really wasn’t. His reaction had less to do with Silver then his own demons. Considering their time together this was probably the sanest approach to life he had ever heard. “It’s simply not often that people are so open about it.”

Silver laughed, “Well in contrast to the British Navy I guess pretty much everything is liberal besides a quick shag in the dark with prayers for forgiveness for having indulged in the pleasure of the flesh.”

Flint looked up sharply and Silver hurried to appease him, “Please, Captain. Everyone can deduce your former occupation. It’s in your every movement.”

“Fair enough”, Flint conceded and wondered why not more people had guessed his background. His posture was rather obvious and yet he always reverted back to it.

Silver relaxed again and mocked conspiratorial, “You don’t experience an urge to hang me for finding me in bed with two women and a man, do you?”

“If I hang you, it wouldn’t be for your sex-life”, Flint assured him with a small smirk, which was answered with one of Silver wide smiles.

* * *

Silver was dancing with some of the whores and some of Mosiah’s men, who were really the only ones of his crew who could dance. Without them the fest would only consists of bellowing and fucking, but their hands for music and dancing made for a more enjoyable evening. Not that Flint ever joined them. Quite in contrast to Silver.

His new acclaimed orator adapted quickly to their rhythms and moved just as good as the others. The men cheered Silver on, who seemed truly at ease with the situation. Flint had always dreaded occasions, in which he was required to dance, as all the officers couldn’t but notice his lack of practice and usually weren’t shy in voicing their opinion about his lack of an ‘education’.

“I think he could have been quite the charmer, if he had ever had the chance to proof himself on a proper ball”, Miranda chipped in, stepping next to him.

They had spent almost the whole day at his hut on the beach and Flint had been in need of some fresh air.

“Urchins aren’t welcome to proper balls, Miranda”, he reminded her and she shook his head, “And yet, he would have probably surpassed most of the upper class in dancing, after some training.”

Flint almost dreaded the thought of a Silver with endless resources and powers. His dancing abilities were the least impressive and the least dangerous of his skills that would enable him to manipulate the high society to whichever end he chose. Yet, maybe he would have never had to learn such skills in the first place.

It was idle talk to wonder what a gamin would have been, if ever given the chance by people, who let them starve on the streets. In moments like these Flint had always felt a certain cleft between himself and the Hamiltons. Thomas and Miranda were both idealists in many ways, but sometimes they were too far removed from everyday life to truly understand the people, who had to fight for the basic right to live.

“Show us!”, the screams rattled him from his musings.

Turning back to the men down at the beach, they had just time to see how one of the women had taken Silver’s hand. After whispering in his ear, he grinned and led them both to the middle of the circle. Soon the other dancers stopped to watch those two dance something Flint couldn’t name but had seen in Portugal. It was oddly different to the previous dancing and yet showcased the same vitality Flint had come to associate with the African dances he had witnessed so often in Nassau.

It was a world away from the stiff ball dances. Their whole bodies were in constant movement and their expressions were so very open, clearly enjoying themselves. Some tried to mimic their steps with varying success, but Flint’s gaze was transfixed to Silver’s face. He was so used to seeing him smile as coverups that it took his breath away to see him smile and laugh without effort. Silver’s eyes were sparkling, adorning his smile with honesty that was hard to dismiss as anything but happiness. Flint didn’t believe that he would ever fall for one of Silver’s fake ones again.

Miranda chuckled warmly beside him, “You’re right. He wouldn’t fit into a ball room. There is too much fire in him.”

“I’m not going to introduce you”, Flint warned her with affection, when he saw her eyes following Silver’s hips with interest.

“A shame”, she replied nonplussed. “To my recollection an introduction isn’t necessary in Nassau, though.”

Laughing at his warning glare, she turned back to the door of their hut, where Abigale was already asleep. The girl was still shaken by her time in captivity and had taken to bed early.

Allowing himself a last glance, Flint followed her inside the hut.

* * *

Tomorrow they would set sail to Charlestown. The deciding moment advancing nearer in a pace almost dizzying him in its swiftness after years of stagnation.

Flint dreaded meeting Lord Ashe again. Like a ghost of the past the silhouette of the man was haunting him as he walked along the quiet beach. Taunting him for the man he had become. Would he even recognize him? Would Flint find his former friend in the man, who made it his life mission to rid the world of pirates?

His own future was unclear. Miranda’s very safety wasn’t assured… nor Nassau’s’ freedom. They were on the crossroad to their doom or their salvation and it was driving Flint mad. It scared him how little control he had over the outcome that he had left Abigale in Miranda’s comforting care. Abigale had woken from a nightmare and who could blame her? He had quickly left the hut as his presence only distressed her more. The girl had gone through enough without him setting her on edge. Thus, he found himself wandering along the shoreline under the pale light of a clear full moon.

To his utter dismay the mysterious light couldn’t offer him any distraction. Flint was anxious to a point of bursting out of his skin. He just needed a moment of peace… to escape his mind, hell his very body for just a second. What wouldn’t he give for one glorious moment of utter oblivion?

Burdened with fears and worries that threatened to overwhelm him, Flint didn’t pay attention to his surroundings. A careless mistake that could cost you your life in such a place, but instead of his life, his mistake demanded nothing than a gasp from him.

Among the rocks sat Silver illuminated in the soft moonlight reflected by the sea so that thousand little stars were dancing on his skin and clothes. Silver was oblivious to his presence or Flint thought so, until Silver turned his head slightly and nodded in greeting.

Maybe a short conversation would help Flint’s troubled mind. It was worth a shot, Flint excused his behavior and set next to him on one of the smaller rocks. They were far enough from the camp for any surprise visitors to stumble upon them.

“I’ve seen you with that man from the brothel again this evening. You talked in Italian”, Flint said as a means to open conversation as well as to satisfy his curiosity.

Silver didn’t object to the question and merely shrugged. “Yes, Miguel is quite adept in learning foreign languages. I’m sure you understand my need to talk to someone other than Randall from time to time.”

Obviously, Miguel wasn’t the only one adept at learning languages, Flint didn’t say. He had already heard Silver converse in four languages, but Flint was not here to demand Silver’s past. He had no right to it as he kept his own hidden.

“Are you two close?”

That made Silver laugh, “We’re not together in that sense, if you mean that. We used to be friends a few years back. We lost our jobs and had to split up to earn a living. That we would meet here again of all places is rather a miracle.”

Interesting, Flint noted at this unexpected piece of information. He hadn’t been sure that Silver had any kind of close relationship with someone as Silver was so adamant to watch out solely for himself. Then again, he had such an ease with people that it was hard to imagine him on his own. The man was a walking paradox.

Miguel on the other hand had appeared nervous among the crew and had left quickly.

“He doesn’t seem to enjoy the presence of pirates.”

“He doesn’t like violence and murder and I’m afraid piracy has a bad reputation in that regard”, Silver explained and Flint could understand where Miguel was coming from. It was likely then that Miguel hadn’t come to Nassau out of his own volition just as Silver.

“You two are of a similar mind then.”

“Pretty much”, Silver shrugged. “Neither of us is a stranger to violence but that does not mean that either of us enjoys it. This is just a means to an end.”

“And he offers a welcome distraction I could imagine.” Miguel was pretty enough, Flint guessed with his tall muscular build and lush mouth. Not nearly as attractive as Silver though. The little shit was truly blessed in that regard.

“Oh, yes”, Silver agreed wistfully. “It’s hard to find men on merchants ships, who want to indulge in something other than a rudimentary fuck. No kissing, just a quick handjob here and there. Most of them accept the necessity to still a need but are too ashamed or feel unmanly to give and receive real pleasure, which is the real reason for shame, if you ask me.”

Something cold pierced his heart and he had to refrain himself from flinching. Not wanting to remember a certain inscription in relation to Silver’s words, he nodded.

It was true enough, Flint conceded. What he had witnessed between them, Silver wouldn’t so easily find with other men. “Many men would fear what others would think of them.”

“I think it’s safe to say that I don’t particular care what other people think of me”, Silver said and Flint questioned how true this sentiment was.

Silver definitely made an attempt to always appear unaffected, but his smile was often just a bit too bright. His eyes shifting too quickly to stem from a natural shift of emotion. It was all an act, Flint was sure of it. It didn’t matter then what other people thought of Silver as long as he was guiding their judgement. This however demanded a keen intelligence allowing Silver to predict and adapt to other people instantly or to manipulate their reactions by thinking three steps ahead of everyone. Flint could respect that.

“Just as long as you’re the smartest person in the room.”

“That is the healthiest state of being isn’t it?”

It sure was, but an approach that seemed tiresome to maintain. Flint knew from his own experience how exhausting it was to keep one mask in place. The idea of switching between several demanded an energy, he wasn’t sure he could muster for a longer period of time.

“Sadly, in that respect, pirates don’t seem to be different than any sailor I encountered”, Silver sighed and leaned back on the rock looking up at the dark night sky.

“No, most act the same”, Flint allowed himself to whisper.

Most pirates would consider it a weakness and weaknesses could kill you here. Flint had never dared to take another lover in Nassau, parts due to his memory of Thomas, parts because of his commitment to Miranda – though she kept calling him a fool for it – and parts because he feared for his reputation. His name as fierce pirate Captain was everything. The reason he was in control of his ship for the most part, the reason for continued survival… a real reason for the people to call him a monster…

“What about you, Captain?”

Silver’s words brought him back to the present and Flint looked down on Silver’s lithe body laying on the rock. He had put his arms behind his head, which only further highlighted his broad arms and his taut chest. It puzzled Flint, that Silver tried his best to hide his strength, but that was his whole spiel, Flint guessed. Silver wanted to appear weak and helpless. Never to pose a threat, always underestimated.

Silver had no reputation to maintain and was smart enough to take chances, when they presented themselves. Why wouldn’t he enjoy his time with an old friend he hadn’t seen in years? Flint felt a pang of jealousy.

“What about me?”, Flint deflected. He didn’t wish to have that conversation now or ever.

Silver lounged himself over the still warm rock and focused his blue eyes on him. “Do you think less of a man because he seeks satisfaction from real intimacy?”

“No.” No, he could never fathom anything else.

Silver hummed and Flint felt his gaze wandering over his stature with interest, making his heart beat faster. “Do you find me attractive, Captain?”

Was that really a question? The bastard had to know how he looked.

The real question was whether or not Flint wanted to admit and act on it. It was all too easy to imagine mapping Silver’s sun-kissed skin with his mouth and to get his fingers into these obscene curls. Flint’s body eagerly demanded him to give in, to feel a heavy body under him, above him… Gosh! The thought alone made his cock twitch in excitement.

Despite the heat coiling up in his stomach, Flint hesitated. Silver was far from trustworthy. Just two days ago Silver had been ready to leave without the money as motivation. Yet, he had stayed and convinced the crew of Flint’s plan. It had taken some convincing on his part including some harsh words about Silver’s worth, but in the end, Silver had relented. There was a small part of Flint, who felt guilt over his words, but Flint had needed him. Without Silver he wouldn’t have his ship and crew anymore nor an opportunity to finally free Nassau.

Bedding Silver was probably a bad idea. On the other hand, they would likely never see each other again after Charlestown. What was the harm? Flint longed to get lost in the most basic feelings of lust. Just this once…

Biting his bottom lip, Flint took the prone figure next to him in. A tongue licking over his lips, the slow breathing that moved his body almost invitingly. Silver’s eyes, his beautiful blue eyes darkened and full anticipation. A quick glance to his crotch revealed his half-hard cock. Silver wanted him.

His reasons for denying himself this seemed irrelevant faced with such a feast waiting for him to be taking.

“Yes.”

The corner of Silver’s mouth curled up and without another word Silver stood up. Searching for Flint’s eyes, Silver held his gaze, while slowly taking off his shirt, exposing his chest to the moonlight. Flint stood up and took off his coat and shirt, coming nearer as in trance. A moth following the light that was on Silver’s skin.

Next were their belts and boots, which they discarded to the side. When Silver started to teasingly take off his trousers however, Flint stopped him with a hand on Silver’s.

“I want to make one thing perfectly clear”, Flint said and searched Silver’s eyes for any sign of a hidden agenda. “Sex is nothing I hold against someone nor do I accept it to be used against me.”

“Then for once we agree on something, Captain”, Silver said in a mellow tone and kissed him gently with sure lips.

Flint’s last doubts vanished beneath that smart mouth, which Flint found to appreciate more by the minute. Silver’s hands came up to caress his sides up to his chest and shoulders. The tentative brushing of lips was addictive, yet Flint needed more and grabbed Silver’s thick curls in one hand to tuck his head back and deepen the kiss. An appreciated moan left Silver’s mouth and Flint felt a clever tongue licking into his mouth. His other hand slid down Silver’s back until it found one of Silver’s impeccable ass-cheeks and squeezed. This earned him an obscene groan that went right down to his groin. Oh, how he had missed this.

Flint felt Silver’s finger brushing above his trousers, until he quickly opened the belt and the buttons on Flint’s trousers. It had been too long since he last allowed himself such oblivion and his body and mind were starving for it. He couldn’t wait any longer. Swiftly he discarded his trousers followed by Silver, who dragged him back into a filthy kiss as soon as the last layer between them had fallen to the ground, revealing a well-muscled torso almost bare of hair. The slim waistline and that dark pool of curls above his gorgeous cock begged to be worshipped and Flint set to the task.

Kissing his neck along his chest, where Flint worried Silver’s nipples one after the other, until Silver’s hips bucked up. Smiling Flint mouthed at the prominent pecks at his stomach down to his hipbones. Flint inhaled deeply as he lowered himself even lower to those beautiful curls that adorned Silver’s cock like a crown and bit into the strong thighs. Silver whimpered and his hands went to Flint’s hair, where they quickly loosened the band and massaged his scalp. A quick glance showed Silver’s body flushed and covered with sweat. Silver was biting his lower lip, his eyes full of want. That was all the encouragement Flint needed and he swallowed Silver down. Silver bucked his hips and Flint had to hold him down as he licked and twirled his tongue, watching how Silver responded so perfectly. No moan was kept back, his body twitching and ever moving.

Flint had almost forgotten how much he loved this. The heavy feeling of a cock on his tongue and the ache of his jaw. He never understood how some people could make this act about submission, not when the one sucking was dictating the other’s reaction. At this point Flint had probably the most control over Silver he had ever had and it made him smile around the cock in his mouth. He hollowed his cheeks and sucked Silver harder leaving the younger man tossing his head back and tugging at Flint’s hair. He could have finished him here, but he wanted so desperately to be inside Silver.

Letting go with a loud pop sound Flint wanted to suck his fingers to get them wet, yet Silver surprised him and rushed up to take his hand and sucked thoroughly at Flint’s fingers. Silver’s eyes never leaving Flint’s while doing so. The sight hardened Flint’s cock so much it hurt and he tried to calm himself.

Then Silver surprised him once more and straddled Flint’s hips and positioned himself. Flint didn’t waste any time and started to slowly loosening the muscles around his rim. No matter how much Flint needed to sink into Silver’s warm body, he wouldn’t dare to hurt someone this way. So, he took his time preparing Silver, who thanked him with little moans and gasps, kissing his neck and sliding his hands over Flint’s body. Watching Silver turned out to be one hell of an erotic experience and one Flint feared could be addicting. There was no sign of that cocky grin the young man wore to appease or the calculating glance Silver tried to hide every so often. This was Silver, pure and honest, remaining in the moment without holding back and Flint loved it.

Once Silver was ready, Flint removed his fingers and without further ado found himself on his back with Silver atop. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes and around his mouth, when Silver quickly sucked at Flint’s cock to get him wet. Flint cursed under his breath as he saw how his cock was engulfed by that lewd mouth. Before he could fall victim to that mouth however, Silver sat up and slowly lowered himself on Flint’s cock making them both moan in unison.

Yes! God! Yes!

This, exactly this he needed.

The heat around his cock. The heavy body above him. The sounds he was making and the hunger in Silver’s eyes.

It was everything and it got even better, when Silver started to move.

Silver didn’t shy from his glance and guided Flint’s hands up to his thighs and stomach. He wanted Flint to touch him, to see him and it was intoxicating. His damp curls clung to his forehead and his neck framing his beautiful face that Flint longed to kiss its contour to memorize it by touch. Undulation after undulation moved through his body and Flint’s back arched up to meet Silver, while he threw his head back letting out a loud moan.

It was so loud that it startled Flint for a moment. He wasn’t used to make so much noise, but before he could start to think about it, Silver caught him in another deep kiss and then worked himself harder on Flint’s cock. Silver’s body was divine perfection and he would fight any one, who dared to say otherwise. It was too much and yet not enough. Flint wanted to feel Silver’s skin on his and swiftly changed their positions, laying Silver on his back and covering him with his own body.

Christ!

The way they fit together. It was overwhelming. Silver’s body molded to Flint’s, until there was no inch between them, following each of his movements as if they were dancing rather than fucking. The hot member between their bodies leaking added to the smooth friction and Flint’s own cock twitched inside Silver causing the younger man to moan lewdly, throwing back his head on the sand and arching his back to get even closer to Flint.

Their eyes met and Flint got lost in the dilated seas under him that gazed back at him with so much hunger and trust in this instant that Flint wanted to weep. He wanted to drown in their depths, wanted to melt with Silver’s skin. On impulse Flint dived for another kiss that was all tongue and panting breaths. But he needed more, still he needed more…

As if on their own accord his lips slowed down, kissing gently at the swollen lips under his own. Licking languidly into Silver’s mouth and sucking at his tongue. Silver’s fingers found their way back into his hair and tugged deliciously, eliciting a whimper from Flint. His thrusts adapted to their kisses. Long deep thrusts that made Silver quaver beneath him as Flint hit that glorious spot with every movement.

They were both so far gone and it didn’t take long for them to come shortly after one another, Silver with a long whimper and Flint with a sharp cry.

Only, when the dull heaviness of his thoughts lifted, Flint realized the big mistake he had just made. In his desire to feel closer to someone he had allowed for their fucking to turn soft and careful. They had made love. They hadn’t fucked.

God… what had he done?

* * * Silver * * *

Washing on a ship rarely offered any privacy and several of his shipmates didn’t seem to bother with staying clean at all. Silver on the other hand hated being dirty, if it could be helped. So, he would steal away to the small storage room behind the kitchen with a bowl of water each morning to rub the dirt from his skin. A life on the streets let you appreciate the comfort of hygiene.

The unfamiliar sound of heels on wood alerted him to a surprise visitor.

Out of the corner of his eyes Silver saw none other than Mrs. Barlow walking towards him without a care. Well, if she planned to abash him, she’d bark on the wrong tree.

His body was never a source of shame for him. Being naked in front of strangers was neither new nor awkward whether Mrs. Barlow was indeed a former Lady, as he suspected, or not. It was her own decision after all to seek him out, while he washed.

As expected Mrs. Barlow showed no sign of discomfort as she stepped right next to him, offering him a wide smile. “Mr. Silver, I’m so glad I found you. Mr. Dooley was so nice to tell me where you are, but I’m rather unfamiliar with the ship’s interior.”

Dooley certainly thought this amusing, but Silver just nodded politely to the woman and continued to wash his hair. “Well, Mrs. Barlow, you certainly found me. How may I be of assistance?”

If he had any reason to feel awkward in this moment it’d be in relation to his interlude with what he assumed to be her husband. Silver had sadly no knowledge about the nature of Flint’s relationship with this woman. Naturally he didn’t believe the rumors of her being a witch. Yet, he noted instantly how very observant she was, not to mention rather fierce for a woman. Her eyes wandered freely over his naked form without a hint of blush, before she met his eyes again.

“I wanted to have words with you, if you don’t mind. James told me that you saved his life twice and as he properly never thought to thank you, I wanted to extant my gratitude.”

That was unexpected. He hadn’t counted on Flint telling her anything about him less alone Flint’s almost death and rescue, nor did he expect to be thanked for it. “That isn’t necessary, Mrs. Barlow. It wasn’t a purely selfless act.”

If she knew, that Flint and Silver had sex? It was hard to guess what Flint told her and what not or rather what she deduced by simply looking at him. Her brown eyes were curious and spoke of an intellect that surpassed pretty much anyone on this ship. That on his own didn’t surprise him as he couldn’t picture Flint spending any time with someone stupid.

“Oh, yes. He told me that you’re rather fixated on getting rich.” She laughed as though the notion of being financially secured was funny and looked at him with adored amusement, which made it just all the more plain that she never had to work for her money in her life.

Yes, Silver thought, she was a Lady.

It also directed his thoughts to his current scheme that promised him a future of such security he had never fathomed. Mrs. Barlow’s husband could be a factor to prevent this, likely with Silver’s death. Nothing of this did he let show on his face, though.

“James likewise told me how you achieved to be accepted by the crew. A fascinating approach, especially now that I’ve seen one of your gatherings. You’ve got quite the talent”, she said in praise and Silver wondered where she was heading with this.

Certainly, she didn’t just come here to thank him.

“Miranda!” A voice bellowed through the door and Flint stormed into the room as Silver had started to dry himself off.

Taking in the scene before him, Flint breathed in and out as though to calm himself, before he turned to Miranda instead of yelling at Silver. “What are you doing here?”

“I was having a conversation with Mr. Silver obviously”, Miranda answered as if it was obvious.

Flint sighed in what could only be described as fond resignation. “And you don’t believe this to be rather inappropriate?”

Mrs. Barlow laughed and took Flint’s arm under hers. “When have I ever acted proper, James? Really, I don’t think your crew minds and Mr. Silver doesn’t seem to be put out by the circumstances of our meeting.”

Silver meanwhile had put on his trousers and hoped to be spared any further involvement in their private matters. He swiftly put on his shirt as well and took hold of the basin. “I think I better stay out of this conversation.”

“That would be wise”, Flint agreed and Silver left them to argue int the storage room, while he got rid of the water.

Christ, that could have gone very differently.

What had he been thinking?! Sleeping with Flint after he had hustled him certainly ranked high up on his personal scale of reckless mistakes. Something he believed Flint agreed on. The captain had seemed nervous and close to be ashamed, once they had caught were breath. Weirdly enough, Silver suspected that the mere act of sodomy hadn’t been the cause of Flint’s near devastated expression the man had tried to hide by gruffly redressing.

No, he concluded. Flint had rather seemed incredibly sad and rueful, which made Silver’s thoughts race with possible reasons, one more farfetched than the next.

Flint had been such a generous lover that Silver had found himself hard the next morning from just remembering their encounter. At the end it had felt like Flint had worshipped him, taking Silver by surprise. This tender side intrigued Silver and he wanted to uncover more about Flint’s motives, yet the ongoing scheme put an end to any speculation.

No matter how lovely it had been, Silver could not lose focus on his goal and that included to stay away from Flint.

* * *

Silver tried to avoid her and the Captain for the remainder of the journey, but at the eve before their arrival in Charlestown, Mrs. Barlow caught him on deck.

He had been standing at the railing as he watched the dark waves of the ocean. His mind was in turmoil since Nicholas’ death and since Vincent had told him what he was prepared to do for Silver. Nicholas hadn’t been the first person to die because of one of his action, but this was different. He should have probably anticipated something like this. Pirates turned out to be pretty forward thinkers, all direct action and most of them violent ones. Still, it was disconcerting to say the least to have someone murdered because you haven’t taken into calculation what a pirate could deduce from ‘a look’.

Damn it, Vincent!

As if their situation hadn’t been already dangerous. If only one of the crew or even worse the Captain had a suspicion about the truth, they’d be dead. Sometimes Silver was mystified about the cheer stupidity of people. How could someone be so careless, so prone to murder that a look could only be interpreted as a command to kill your best friend?

Geez, he needed to get away from these people as soon as possible.

Mrs. Barlow was one of them.

“Mrs. Barlow”, Silver nodded politely in greeting, as she stood beside him.

“Mr. Silver.”

Something about the way she smiled at him unnerved him more than his nakedness at their last encounter could. He couldn’t anticipate what was going on in her head and that was concerning and did nothing for his nerves.

She at least was unlikely to figure out his real role in the supposed disappearance of the _Urca_ -treasure, as she hadn’t been involved in it, at least he hoped that Flint hadn’t been to specific in his reports. Her next words however showed that her mind was on something of a way more intimate nature.

“I know that you slept with James.”

He glanced at her composed posture and decided that she didn’t showcase any jealousy or the like. In fact, she looked rather delighted. “You don’t seem shocked or even angry, Milady.”

“Mrs. Barlow, if you please.” She didn’t seem surprised to be recognized as a Lady, but didn’t want the word to go around, or she simply didn’t care for her former status, which Silver had a hard time to believe.

Chuckling she inched closer and whispered in a supposedly conspiratorial voice, “And no, I’m rather relieved that he found someone, who could see to him. He was in dire need of it, wouldn’t you agree?”

Silver knew better than to ask, whether she couldn’t ‘see to him’. Not that he had any opposition to sleep with Flint.

Flint was intriguing and those thighs alone had him imagining how they would fit around his waist, but it was also dangerous. It had been a risk to get so close to Flint, when Silver’s life hanged in the balance. Yet, when Flint and she had witnessed his foursome at the brothel Silver had been excited to see not disgust on Flint’s face but hunger. The stoic pirate had seemed transfixed and that had perked Silver’s interest. He couldn’t help it.

The Captain was a mystery of contradictions, which begged to be solved. When Flint had looked at him at the beach with so much longing, Silver just had to try to break through Flint’s armor. The opportunity had been too great to go to waste.

He had serious issues. Silver knew that.

One of his issues was still waiting patiently for an answer. Trying for nonchalance Silver deflected, “You and the Captain have an interesting relationship, if I may be so bold.”

“Be as bold as you please”, she replied and grinned like a cat that got the cream. “If I had known you sooner, it’s possible that I had propositioned you about sharing our bed.”

Wasn’t that a picture.

Despite this alluring image however, he wouldn’t touch that subject. “I think that you already know that I’ve no preference of sex or the number of participants.”

“No, you have other principles as I imagine”, she countered and Silver schooled his expression. Mrs. Barlow had no idea about how he came to have the principles he had and didn’t mean it as slide, but Silver got irritated by this woman’s pressuring. His past and his principles were his own and she had no right to them.

Despite his still open expression she seemed to sense his discomfort and changed the topic,

“I wanted to thank you.”

“You already thanked me for saving his life”, Silver assured her and hoped for an end to this conversation. He had too much on his mind to feel safe under her gaze.

“That’s not what I’m thankful for”, she corrected as if he were a child that made a slight mistake at spelling and it irked him more. He could just see her probing Lords and Ladies in a salon winning any argument. That she honestly thought that these tactics went unnoticed by him was tiresome, although to be excepted.

As he didn’t answer, she sighed and Silver could hear her disappointment. However, she didn’t press the subject further. “You haven’t been a pirate for long, have you?”

“No, and I don’t plan to be one for long”, he conceded.

“Most of these men probably thought the same. James certainly did so”, she let slip and Silver was aware that it was on purpose.

She was likely trying to coax more information out of him about his and Flint’s relationship. Calling it a ‘relationship’ was of course farfetched. Until their moment at the beach, Silver had thought Flint to be totally indifferent to him. On the other hand, physical attraction wasn’t proof for respect. Flint had made it clear, what he thought about him, when he had lied to him and tried to manipulate him like the rest of the crew. It was so obvious that it was insulting. If only Flint had not hit so close to home.

It aggravated Silver to no end that Flint had found his weak-spot with such ease. It had felt good to be accepted and needed by the crew, and respected by Flint… or so he had thought.

Being needed however was not the same as respected and Silver was honest enough with himself to accept that Flint’s disrespect had been part of the reason to sell the information about the _Urca_.

It had been an impulse, which could either lead to boundless wealth or his long and painful death.

Though new information, it hardly shocked Silver. Flint didn’t seem the kind of man to willfully choose to be among pirates. He had already guessed at his background in the Royal Navy. Silver didn’t want to hear anything intimate about Flint, while he was betraying him. Sleeping with the man had already been a risk. Silver couldn’t go back on his actions and now he had to distance himself from him and the crew, if he wanted to survive this.

Giving Mrs. Barlow his best charming smile, he tried to redirect the conversation to something more humorous and hopefully end their talk soon. “Most of these men are better suited to this life than me. Please don’t spread the ugly truth, but I’m not much of a fighter nor do I like violence in general. I’m even dreadful at cooking and I’m the cook.”

As expected she laughed and whispered, “Your secret is safe with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing major in the first chapter, except for an orgy by mutual consent.


	2. Chains of Loss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this story.  
> Leave a kudo or a comment, if you liked it.
> 
> Please mind the warnings and read the additonal warnings in the end-note-section, if you are easily triggered.

* * * Flint * * *

Strange. I thought I knew you.

With utmost care Flint guided the rag over Silver’s neck and torso. It was important for him to stay clean, less the infection become graver. Thankfully, the fever broke this night. Howell was certain, he would live. That was good. Whether he would think so, Flint questioned. It would be hard to adapt and a painful recovery. He was in pain now, constantly. He had claimed to have a low tolerance for pain. Flint knew pain well and he had no doubt that his own pain would never leave him. Not now, after…

The rag moved over those strong arms and brought shoulders that were full of bruises. The men had to hold him down. It had been necessary. They said, he hadn’t wanted it. They had done it anyway. Flint didn’t know, whether he would have the will to grant his wish to die. It would have been pointless, wouldn’t it?

Slowly, Flint erased the traces of sweat once more. He had already lost track of how many times he had done this. Changing and washing the clothes and blankets, cleaning the sweat from the still shivering body. He would wake soon. Howell visited often and changed the bandages on the stump. Cursing that they had no laudanum during the amputation. They had only rum. Rum for cutting off a part of yourself. It was inadequate and it made Flint flinch in sympathy. They’ve got it now. It was the first thing they bought in Tortuga.

Tortuga hadn’t felt real and Flint hadn’t left the ship. Billy and Vane had made his warning known. Soon all people would learn to fear Captain Flint. A monster hunting those, who hunt creatures like him. It used to hurt him. People calling him a monster, to be the villain in the story. Now Flint feels numb. The feelings are still there, but they were like dense mist, enveloping him and covering the world from his eyes.

The skin was less warm now and finally free from sweat. It wouldn’t stay so, but Flint knew how to fight this battle and he would win every time. The purpose was clear. The skin under his fingers was real. The breath on his skin was loud in his ears.

Wasn’t it strange for this body to feel so real in this fog than Flint didn’t knew the man anymore?

Silver. He was pliable like his namesake, adapting to any form that was demanded. A fair light as it turned out. Silver as in the silver-tongued. It was fitting for his masterful talent of storytelling. Something precious and rare.

John Silver.

A mystery. A name that was as fake as it was suitable. A man changing faces like clothes.

Flint had never thought that Silver would sacrifice himself for others. He had been wrong. Once again, Flint had miscalculated and misjudged a man’s character.

Flint had been deceived and now he had lost what was left of his soul.

Peter Ashe.

Flint should have known, he should have questioned it. Damn it! He should have done something back then, instead of accepting everything at face value. If he had only fought for Thomas, maybe…

No, he chastised himself. This path didn’t lead him anywhere. Flint couldn’t change the past, be it three days or ten years.

Mumbled words in another language he didn’t know, redirected his thoughts back to the young man under his hands.

Silver had hardly kept quiet for the first two days of his laudanum induced sleep. Even drugged out of his brain it would seem that Silver’s mind and mouth couldn’t find any rest.

Flint couldn’t blame him.

Such a trauma never leaves you and the laudanum, although necessary for the healing process, had the nasty side-effect to mull your thoughts. As Silver had developed a fever from a mild infection on top, his mind had seemed to turn from one thing to the next without pause only rarely letting Silver sleep.

Flint didn’t envy the man. Silver was bare and without the means to defend himself from memories and fears. It was one of the reason’s he had ordered them to bring Silver into his cabin. Beside the lesser risk of infection here, he wanted to at least offer Silver some privacy after his ordeal that still hold him in his iron grip.

In a weird way Flint found Silver’s rumblings soothing. It was like an anchor to reality, when his thoughts drifted into the abyss that was his mind. Silver’s rants as well as caring for him, hell, listening to his labored breathing was the thread that held Flint together. It might be wrong, but it was all Flint had left and he clung to it.

Drying Silver of, Flint thought about the young man that had jumped inelegantly from the railing just so that the crew would laugh about him rather than ask questions. The sly man had acted on instincts, thinking on his feet and managed to lose them at the beach. A snort escaped Flint, when he remembered that idiotic slow chase in the boot. Then, he had burned the page. Playing him once more. Dangerous. Brilliant. Impressive. Flint doubted many would have thought of it or dared to do it.

What that man would think about his new position on the ship or his new physical restrictions? It had only been a few weeks and yet it felt like a lifetime ago. That man would have laughed at the mere insinuation of what he had done for the crew and then despaired, realizing the truth. Flint feared, what would happen, when Silver awoke.

Who would look at him?

How would Flint look at Silver?

A guilty part of himself dreaded the moment, not least because he would lose this life-line that kept him from losing himself.

With tender hands Flint lifted Silver slightly on his lap to put his shirt on. There were probably other ways to do this, but Flint indulged in his need to be close to Silver just a bit in these moments.

Dutifully Flint dragged the shirt down Silver’s enticing torso, without letting his fingers wander off, when a rough voice startled him. “Captain?”

Silver’s eyes were unseeing and Flint had no doubt that he wouldn’t remember this. It had happened before.

Gently Flint lowered Silver against his chest and stabilized his head softly with his left hand. “It’s okay. You’re not alone.”

Flint couldn’t explain, why it was important to state this and he didn’t want to either.

Silver’s arms came up to grasp weakly at Flint’s right arm that was draped over his stomach. “Hurt.”

“I know. Try to sleep. Your safe”, Flint replied in a hushed tone and felt the echo of joy through the mist calling to him, as Silver leant unconsciously into his touch. A deep sigh ghosting over the tips of his fingers.

Are you my lighthouse or a siren, Flint couldn’t but wonder, as Silver finally fell into a deep slumber?

Unwilling to wake Silver again, he remained seated behind him. Just for a while.

The night dragged on, but Flint remained behind Silver.

Throughout the night Silver kept on switching between languages, always in hushed almost devotional tone like a prayer. For a while it calmed the young men, but this calm was followed by grave episodes in which Silver screamed in panic.

The first time it had happened, Muldoon had stumbled from his post as watch into the cabin. Now the watch knew the cause of the screams and stayed away, once Flint had given the order under the promise to call for help, shouldn’t he be able to handle the outburst.

Thankfully, that hadn’t been the case yet.

A change in cadence redirected Flint’s attention to the present again and he looked down at Silver, who mumbled now in yet another language.

Portuguese, Flint recognized the language without understanding a word.

That was new.

Flint’s right hand took hold of Silver’s and started to recite one of Shakespeare’s sonnet by memory. He whispered the words, not wanting to wake him but to lull him back to sleep. His voice wavered but Silver wouldn’t mind. At least his fingers didn’t tremble, as they stroked through Silver’s hair.

““[…] And art made tongue-tied by authority,

And folly (doctor-like) controlling skill,

And simple truth miscall'd simplicity,

And captive good attending captain ill:””

““Tired with all these, from these would I be gone,

Save that, to die, I leave my love alone.””

The words were mumbled and Flint looked down at Silver in surprise, who leaned back into Flint’s chest and fell back to sleep.

A small smile fought its way to the corner of Flint’s mouth. It made sense, he supposed. Someone as taken with stories and languages would be familiar with tales of all kinds. Maybe Silver would appreciate the Spanish novels of the former Captain of this ship. Flint’s Spanish was sadly not good enough for most of them.

It made him wonder whether Silver’s other mumblings had been tales and poems as well. He wished he was as skilled in learning languages as Silver obviously was. How many texts would finally reveal themselves to him, how many great thinkers and stories could keep him company?

Miranda had always encouraged him to learn languages.

The pain in his chest made him grimace and he leaned his head back on the window frame. That was just one more way he let her down. There had always been something more important than taking the time to learn Spanish with her. How often had she tried to persuade him to stay with her longer to learn it, to listen to her, to be with her.

How lonely she must have been. Alone in her grieve and memories with nothing but gardening and reading to distract her. She had been a witch to both pirates and puritans. Outcasted. Mistrusted. Feared. A life full of rejection, that was all he had gifted to her. It was no wonder, that she had tried to escape Nassau. Possibly even him, or at least the man he had become.

Christ! He had been so angry, when she wrote the letter. The price of her error born from his failures had been so high. It had almost cost him his life. It was very likely that Billy wouldn’t had investigated into the matter and that Gates never would have helped the mutineers. Maybe he would even be alive…

Gates!

He had failed him.

He had failed Miranda.

He had failed Thomas.

Thomas my love, Flint thought and his throat contracted stealing him his breath. Please forgive me. When she comes to you, return her love as she deserves and bring back her happiness. For if there is a life after death, you and her will be reunited. I hope that you won’t despise me for what I have become. Maybe, just maybe you my beloved will be able to forgive me, if the world cannot.

It was an idle thought to imagine his loved ones reunited in afterlife as Flint did not believe in it. Not that he would see them, if there was such a thing. His sins were too great for him to go to the place his lovers would go. But the idea of forgiveness was too great to reject the promise entirely, so he would hope. Hope to be one day forgiven.

“No, no!” Silver’s frightened voice awoke him from his void of misery and Flint tried to calm him by petting his hair and making soothing noises. This time however, Silver was caught too deep into whatever nightmare he’d found himself in and was getting more panicked by the second, his head and body tossing and turning. “No, please! Mother! Don’t leave me! No, please, no!”

The anguish and despair were written so clearly in Silver’s face that Flint had to swallow a thick lump in his throat, while he gently caught his arms to stop him from hurting himself. That only increased the fear of the young man and he started to scream.

Flint took heart and called Silver’s name trying to wake him up. “Silver! Silver, it’s alright! You’re safe. You’re safe!” With a sharp gasp Silver awoke and grasped Flint’s arm. His beautiful blue eyes were full of terror as they looked pleadingly up to Flint, still not fully awake and aware of his actions.

“Don’t let them take me away! Please! don’t’ let them take me there! I’ll be better. I’m not weak”

“I won’t let them take you”, Flint promised softly and caressed Silver’s cheek and hair. “They won’t get you. I’ll keep you safe.” He had no idea, who ‘they’ were or where Silver dreaded to be taken, but that didn’t matter. Upon hearing his words, Silver finally calmed down and pressed closer to Flint’s body. The effort had drained Silver. Soon his eyes fell close and he drifted off into a deep sleep.

“I’m here”, Flint whispered quietly and didn’t stray from his side.

* * *

The day had been fucking long and Flint felt tired to the bones. Yet, he knew that he wouldn’t find any sleep, were he to try it. Flint could hardly remember, when he had last fallen peacefully to rest. All he could hope for now was the heavy blackness of utter exhaustion could bring him.

Naturally, Vane choose this evening to approach him.

“Is there something you want?” Flint pressed in a harsh tone. Not that it deterred Vane in any way.

The man walked towards Silver’s sleeping form and Flint had to refrain from rushing between them. Vane knew better than to hurt Silver now. He had no reason to anyway. Nonetheless, Flint felt the need to protect Silver and leant back into his chair, observing Vane’s every move.

Of course, that was the moment Silver became restless once more and started to mumble and toss from side to side.

“Dutch”, Vane realized.

Flint remained quiet, as he didn’t want to speak about Silver’s impressive language skills. The men had no idea what he was revealing of himself at the moment and Flint didn’t want to capitalize on his current helplessness. That Vane was now a witness to it didn’t sit right with Flint.

“How many languages does he speak”, Vane wondered aloud.

Flint snorted, “God knows. I’ve heard him talking in at least six languages so far.”

“Smart and brave then, he’ll need it”, Vane nodded and Flint had to refrain from hitting him.

The remark itched Flint decidedly the wrong way. “Again, is there something you need?”

Finally, Vane turned towards Flint. “My men are getting restless. They have been below deck since Charlestown.”

“Apart from the brothers my crew lost to you and your men I’m sure you understand why that is the best place for them at the moment”, Flint countered waving towards Silver, who thankfully had drifted off into a deeper sleep.

Vane didn’t appear surprised or angry, which was just as well. If he had complained any further Flint had thrown their new alliance through the window. Instead Vane was understanding. “I’m sorry about your new Quartermaster. That shouldn’t have happened. If Billy hadn’t killed him, I’d done it.”

Flint stood up and walked up to Vane, “If the coward had been alive, I would have let him suffer while I hit him with a damn axe.”

“Fair enough”, Vane replied with a rueful smirk.

“No!”, the scream shocked them both for a second, before they jumped into action.

“Silver!”, Flint tried to wake the man, who was trashing blindly around. “Silver, calm down.”

Shit, Flint cursed, as Vane and he attempted to restrain Silver without harming him further and to prevent Silver from harming himself.

“No! Don’t!”, Silver screamed in panic, his eyes wide. “Let me go!”

“Billy!”, Flint yelled, until the man appeared at his door. “Go get Howell!”

Billy was gone in the blink of an eye.

Silver continued to toss and scream in a variety of languages completely gone in the last grip of his laudanum induced state.

At last Howell ran into the room and rushed to their side.

“My decision. It’s my life! My decision!”, Silver hissed in a furry and Flint could see Howell flinch although his grip didn’t lessen.

He quickly uncorked a small vial and tossed the liquid down Silver’s throat, who spitted and kept to free himself, until he slowly dropped back to the blankets.

Only then the three men let Silver go and stood uncomfortably next to the now seemingly still Silver.

Howell sighed and rubbed his neck. “He didn’t want us to… save his life, but he was in so much pain, he didn’t know what he was saying… what it would mean, if we didn’t…”

Flint would bet that Silver had known what it meant, but there was no reason to lay that guilt on the doctor’s shoulders. It was his job to keep the men alive and many men refuse an amputation. Hopefully Silver would see it as the well-meant help that it was… in time at least.

Vane remained thankfully silent through the conversation, although Flint saw the doubt in his eyes.

* * * Silver * * *

Fucking windowsill.

Fucking window.

Fucking ocean.

Fucking cabin.

And fuck bedpans!

It was degrading and it hurt almost as much as his stupid leg. Struggling with the most basic everyday-tasks became the highlight of his day. Every day for the past week Silver had denied help with washing or anything related to his need to relief himself. He was not a child and he certainly wasn’t helpless, thank you very much.

They had offered to help him wash, to shave, to empty the bedpan for him. But screw them! As soon as he was able to sit up, he insisted on doing it himself. No matter how painful and slow a process each task was. Christ! He had nearly fainted the first time he had tried to relieve himself, as he tried to remain half standing over the damn pan! At least pissing he could do sitting.

Thank God, no one had seen it.

It had taken himself over an hour to regain the strength to pick the pan up and throw the content out the window.

The truth of the matter however was, he had once again become helpless and that scared him to the bones. Especially, since he could not rectify his mistake. There was no way to regrow his leg or go back in time to yell the names of ten men over the deck, before they even dragged him into the cabin.

It was strange that Silver felt no dread in this room. Seeing the table, at which Vincent was shot held no hurt for him and he didn’t see the ghost of the man with the axe, when he looked through the room. No, that ghost waited for him in his dreams, together with his loyal brethren, who thought it mercy to go against his wish. Every time he closed his eyes, Silver felt their fingers pressing in his arms, their weight holding him down and their eyes on the fucking slow process of the amputation.

Then, their faces turned to horrible visages of arrogance or blank faces with tattoos. His form shrunk and his tormenters grew bigger. The wood around him turned to cold stone. Unmoving they captured him like the iron of the cage he found himself in.

Those were the moments, he woke with words of despair on his lips. Every time Silver would sit up in shock and look at his surroundings, until he knew where he was. Silver was relieved, when he was alone as it happened during the day. It was worse in the nights, because Flint witnessed his weakness. At least Flint hadn’t commented on it. So far Flint had tried his best to ignore him, since he told him the lie about the gold.

Silver had half expected for Flint to see through the lie instantly and just kill him, but no such luck. Flint had raged about Rackham and the now dead scouts, but never mentioned Silver. There was no sign that he knew about Silver’s true role in the scheme, but that could change. Everything else had changed, why not this as well.

Despite the pain and distress as he had woken up, Silver had been mystified about Flint’s soft smile. Especially now that he knew about Mrs. Barlow’s death, Flint’s honest fondness had surprised him. It reminded him of Flint’s gentleness during their one time together. Something so totally unexpected from the terror of the Caribbean.

It had only been a moment, yet it had shocked Silver, as it had shocked him, when Flint had smiled at him. Now Flint was distant and tried to stay out of his own cabin as much as he could. It stung, to be so disregarded. More so, because Silver couldn’t quite understand, why Flint acted this way. Was he disappointed at Silver or at the world at large? Couldn’t he stomach to be in the same room as a sickly cripple? Did Flint fear to show Silver his own distress within the walls of his cabin? That seemed a given. Flint’s grief was so apparent. The weight of his loss burdened his every step and his torment was barely hidden behind a stoic mask of silent fury. There was wrath, yes. But mostly there was pain and Silver sympathized with being suffocated by pain. He hadn’t known Mrs. Barlow well enough to mourn her, but she had obviously meant a great deal to Flint. Given their own tryst on the beach and his conversation with Mrs. Barlow, those two had indeed had a special relationship and there was still a small part of his old self that was curious about it.

It was easier to think about Flint’s misery than his own. A sad truth, but the truth.

“Mr. Silver?”, Muldoon’s voice broke him out of his trance and Silver winked him closer, “Yes, Muldoon. Come in.”

The man drew closer, a bowl of fresh stew in his hands. Silver had no idea, who was cooking now that Randall was dead, but the food deliveries were as much a form of time measurement as the light. They never forgot Silver.

Muldoon looked pensive, as he took the last meal mostly untouched in the bowl at Silver’s side up. “You gotta eat more, Sir.”

“It’s fine”, Silver dismissed his worries, taking the bowl out of Muldoon’s hands and gestured for him to sit in a chair that was still standing next to the windowsill from Billy’s visit this morning. “Anything interesting happening up there?”

At this Muldoon’s face lit up and he started to report any gossip he overheard. Silver was only half listening, but it was better to keep informed about the events on the ship, even if he didn’t hold the going-ons any longer.

Muldoon did his best to engage him in conversation while Silver tried to eat at least a few spoons of the meal. Both wanted to act normal, except that nothing was normal about this situation. Yet, the man smiled by every spoon Silver managed to eat, until Silver was in danger to retch the next spoon right up again and feigned a yawn.

On queue Muldoon stood up and patted Silver on his shoulder, “I better leave you, you still need your rest, Sir.”

Muldoon had become really friendly and Silver didn’t want to use him, but there was something he needed.

“Muldoon, could you do me a favor?”, Silver asked innocently and the man nodded instantly.

“Yes, of course.”

Silver put the bowl down on the ground and gestured to the crutches that were standing on the other side of the room. “Bring me the crutches, would you.”

“I don’t know, Sir. Howell said you shouldn’t try them so soon.”

Didn’t he know, Silver grinded his teeth in expiration. He had already tried to reach them on his own, wanting to hopp from on piece of furniture to the next, but he didn’t make it to the desk.

“Muldoon”, Silver tried to reason. “I need to train with them and if I need to make it an order, I will.”

It was mean, but Silver didn’t care and Muldoon dutifully gathered them for him.

“You may leave”, Silver said not wanting Muldoon to witness his first attempt, but the man stayed where he stood.

“Now, Muldoon”, Silver dismissed him with as much authority as he could muster.

This made him leave, however Silver could hear him lingering behind the door and yelled, “Muldoon, return to your post!”

Only, when he heard him retreat, Silver heaved his legs over the edge and breathed in and out.

To hell with all their caution and pity!

He had to stand on his own feet – well, foot. If he couldn’t walk, he was as good as dead. Independency meant surviving and Silver had always been a survivor. If nothing else, they couldn’t take that from him. He wouldn’t let them.

Ignoring the pain in his stump and thigh, Silver collected his strength. He could do this. He had to.

Placing the crutches under his armpits, Silver gripped them tight and stood up. The movement unbalanced him and he staggered, before he found his footing again. Silver wasn’t used to standing anymore and the motion as well as the strength it took to keep upright made him dizzy. His right leg trembled as were his arms. Sweat was already running down his neck and back.

He tried to find his bearings and minded his breathing. When his head had stopped turning, Silver throwed the crutches a step ahead and hoped forwards, making his first step. It was wobbly at best, but it was a start. He made another and another. Two more and he would be at the desk, where he could rest. That, at least, had been his plan. Unfortunately, one of his crutches slipped by the next hop and Silver’s hold on the crutch loosened. He desperately fought for balance, but to his dismay he faltered and fell down with a loud thump.

Although he could turn at the last moment to avoid falling directly on his stump, the pain that shot through his thigh into his back was so immense that he couldn’t suppress a scream. Tears welt up in his eyes and Silver grabbed his left thigh with his left hand, while he hit the ground in his frustration with the other.

No, he could not cry. He would not cry!

Biting through the pain, Silver wiped his eyes clean and looked for his crutches. One was under him, the other was out of his reach.

Damn it! Cursing in seven languages and then some, Silver started to crawl towards the other crutch, as the bloody door opened and none other than the Captain and Billy Bones entered to bear witness to his humiliation.

“What the fuck?! Silver, what are you doing on the crutches, God damn it!”, Billy said and rushed to help him up, but Silver wasn’t having it and shoved him away or tried to.

“Leave me alone!”, he hissed, as Billy was in fact pulling him up. “Billy, let go of me. Do you hear me!”

“Stop it, will you”, Billy admonished, while he half pulled and carried Silver back to the windowsill. “Christ, you know you are not to use them yet!”

“That’s for me to decide, isn’t it?”, Silver spit out and felt his face turning red.

Flint, who had yet to move a muscle, stared at the crutches on the ground and barked at Billy, “Get Howell.”

Billy nodded, looking between the two and escaped the room under Silver’s yell, “I don’t need Howell!”

Flint slowly kneeled to pick up the crutches. His grip as firm as his voice, as he put them back in the corner of the room and thereby out of Silver’s reach.

“I’ll give order that no one is to hand you these, until Howell deems it safe.”

“You’re kidding”, Silver protested, but turned his head away, as Flint moved to stand beside him. His presence was too much at this moment, the judgmental glare he was most likely giving Silver. This was unbearable, Silver thought in fear. Knowing how useless he must look to Flint. He couldn’t afford to appear anything but capable.

“You can’t keep them from me”, Silver insisted through pressed teeth, while the pain drove more wetness to his eyes.

He would not cry. Not out of fear. Not because of pain. He was not weak!

“Obviously, I can.”

Flint’s words were like a hit in the gut. He said it matter of facts. There was no room for discussion. Nothing Silver could do or say to change the situation, to change fucking reality.

“Why are you so afraid? The men knew about your condition and that you would need time to heal, when they voted you Quartermaster.”

“I’m not afraid!”, Silver corrected him at once. Flint with his pesky perception had sadly hit the nail on its head. “I’m just frustrated that’s all.”

“You’re smarter than this. You have to accept that you’ll need time to heal. Otherwise you set yourself up for failure”, Flint deadpanned and Silver had to swallow his retort less he sounded more like an insolent child.

Footsteps announced Howell’s arrival and Flint moved aside, while Billy hovered at the door. Howell admonished Silver’s stubbornness and rebandaged the stump, all while Flint stayed put next to the doctor listening to the instructions and watching Silver.

All the attention was hard to endure and Silver had to remind himself that they weren’t appraising him. They wouldn’t single him out and leave him to the highest bitter. This was different. The crew cared for him. The crew would never sell him, they would protect him.

Endless minutes passed before Howell implored him to let the foolishness rest and to keep cleaning the stump regularly. Through it all Silver had kept his blank face on and he was relieved that it still came easy enough to him. It was a blessing, when they finally left him alone and Silver sank down on the sill with a pained sigh.

Silver hadn’t known that he could still feel shame. Yet, he had never felt as exposed as on that fucking table. Now, of course, shame had become his constant companion just as the pain. The never ending pain of a foot that wasn’t even there anymore, the ever present throbbing of his stump and the cramps in his left thigh.

Silver needed a break from his useless body.

* * *

The stump was just lying there. Useless and ugly, even under the bandages.

Silver forced himself to look at it. If you can’t look at yourself, how could others?

Playing the young dork with the charming smile and innocent looks had saved his life more times than he could count. His days of charming were past him now. No one would defuse a cripple with a likable but slightly juvenile mate. Someone, who would be ignored or taken into their trust as he never posed a threat. It never mattered to him that he was seen as stupid or lesser. Silver had used this to his advantage. It had been a farce, after all. An act he could drop at will. Now it unnerved him.

They would just look at his stump and judge him for it. Did it even matter now, how he presented himself to the world? His former strategies of survival wouldn’t work anymore. Everything he’ll have to face from now on he would need to face head on and Silver had always dreaded such encounters. There was always a backdoor, an escape.

But there was no escaping this.

The finality of it hit Silver time and again. It stole his breath and made him shiver with fear. His every instinct telling him to run… but he couldn’t run anymore.

Shit.

He couldn’t run.

_Maybe you deserve that_ , a devious voice whispered in his head and Silver gasped, trying to shake off the need to cry.

The sudden sound of a chair being dragged on wood startled Silver and reminded him that he wasn’t alone in the room.

“Are you in pain. Should I call for Howell?” Flint’s voice was devoid of pity for which Silver was immensely thankful.

“No”, Silver answered and tried to relax his hand that had cramped over his left thigh. Adding a quiet, “Thank you.”

Flint wasn’t convinced, though. “There is no reason to lie. Howell told me that you refuse the opium, why?”

That at least was easy to explain. “I’ve seen how easily people can get addicted to it and I’d rather keep my one remaining asset.”

Not to mention that Silver was afraid of spilling something about the gold or other aspects of his former lives.

Flint snorted and to Silver’s surprise sat down on the space, where his left foot should be. “Why don’t you use your asset then to accept your new role in life?”

“I beg your pardon?” Silver was both insulted and weirded out by Flint’s point and choice of seat. Probably, why the bastard sat down there in the first place. Confusing your opponent, unbalancing him to get the upper hand was one of Flint’s main tactics and Silver hated it to be affected by such a trivial action.

He felt bile rise in his frustration and met Flint’s stare as indifferent as possible. “Maybe, if you wouldn’t keep withholding my fucking crutches, I could start acting the damn role the crew has guilt-ridden given me!”

“We withhold the crutches for this reason, you would just overexert, as your little stunt showed. It could lead to a new fever, a new infection. Do you want that?”

Silver huffed out a strangled laugh, “So, I am a child that can’t be trusted to make his own decision, but I’m seen fit to be responsible for a crew of pirates?! You see the insanity in that?!”

“I agree with their choice for Quartermaster whether you believe it or not, but you can’t act as Quartermaster, if you don’t allow yourself to heal”, Flint argued and Silver was surprised about the honesty in his eyes.

It was hard to accept that Flint would agree with an invalid as his second. Silver couldn’t but stare at him. Flint fidgeted with the rings on his hands, before he went to the bookshelf. He took one out and gave it to Silver. “Here, I heard you speaking in French and thought you might want a distraction.”

“Thank you”, Silver replied astonished about the kindness, but it also alarmed him. “Have I spoken much, while drugged?”

“Some, but I didn’t understand a word. I’m not as skilled as you in learning foreign languages”, Flint said in such a soft tone that Silver wondered whether Flint had just lied or that he simply knew that Silver would prefer to keep his past private and wanted to calm him.

He nodded swiftly and hoped that he hadn’t revealed too much about himself. “It comes in handy.”

“Undoubtedly”, Flint said with a little smile curling his lips and went to leave.

“Captain”, Silver called after him and Flint turned around at the door. Looking down at the book and back at Flint, Silver could hardly understand this gentle compassionate side of the man. Yet, he understood loss and he needed to express his regret even belated. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Flint’s brow twitched and the soft expression of his face vanished, leaving a blank stare. Silver started to fear that he had crossed a line and would now be the recipient of Flint’s wrath, but the captain merely nodded and whispered a final, “Rest.”

* * * Flint * * *

Tossing and turning, sharp intakes of breaths. Mumbled words, sometimes he would scream for something or someone. The words were a mystery to him, but Flint knew Silver’s plight. The names of his demons were unknown to him, but the toil it took to fight them each time you closed your eyes was all too familiar to Flint.

_You should speak with him_ , Miranda’s spirit whispered and Flint flinched.

Maybe he should wake him up, but that would mean to acknowledge the issue that haunted both of them in the dark. Flint didn’t know what it would mean to cross that line. He had never said something about it and Silver had thankfully never mentioned Flint’s nightmares. It was better to deal with it alone, he reasoned.

_Neither of you is alone_ , Miranda criticized.

No, neither of them was alone and yet they were. The distance between them was so great now that they could be on different ships on different oceans instead of a few feet away in the same room.

Maybe, if Silver had just kept his mouth shut about the gold, Flint would still see the silver-lining. Not that it would have changed anything. Another scheme and another enemy to fight. Fucking Rackham! Hadn’t he lost enough, hadn’t he suffered enough?

The proof of yet another betrayal he hadn’t see coming had shattered his last hope. Would Miranda be still alive, would Silver be whole, if they had ventured first for the gold? Would he had still sailed to Charlestown first, or would he even have his ship, his captaincy, if the gold hadn’t disappeared? The questions were cruel to ponder and fueled the rage in his broken heart. It was too much and too soon after Miranda’s death.

A sharp half swallowed scream broke Flint out of his thoughts and he saw how Silver had partly risen on his makeshift bed.

Flint heard Silver’s labored breathing and could practically feel the tension in Silver’s fingers as he gripped at the blankets. He saw him shiver and Flint knew he was fighting tears just as he had fought to remain silent as he woke from his nightmare. This had become a horrid ritual and each time Flint expected Silver to lose the battle. Flint had lost it many times and preferred the sleepless nights to his terror filled dreams.

Silver never did. Not once had Flint seen or heard him cry. There were tears in his eyes, when he fell to the ground in his stupid attempt to walk on the crutches, though he could barely hold himself upright – but no tears fell. He fought them and won. Many men fought their tears. There was nothing special about it. Silver however was different.

It was the vehemence he fought his supposed fragility that caught Flint by surprise. The pain alone would have rendered most men to pitiful wrenches. Silver didn’t relent in his stoic insistence of doing everything on his own. No matter the pain he had to endure. It was insane and yet… Flint felt a kinship in every bitten lip, the grinding of teeth, the stiff shoulders and the trembling hands. All the little signals that unmasked the torment Silver tried to hide behind a new hard mask of defiance.

Silver heaved himself upright and his legs over the edge of the sill. He was shivering all over his body and his hands grabbed his left thigh. He panted through gritted teeth, clearly in pain, still he tried to grab for his crutches. The idiot!

Howell had finally given his blessing for the use of both crutches, albeit with help at first. Flint had been there every time Silver had trained with them for the first week, until he and Howell had deemed Silver strong enough to use them without help. Now, however, Silver was once again being unreasonable. It was clear that he wouldn’t be able to keep standing in his current condition, not with the shaking.

Not that Flint didn’t understand the negative energy that bolted up in your body, after recurring nightmares and Silver had been bedridden for a very long time. He himself would walk over the deck through the night to get all the energy out of his system, but this was stupid and he wouldn’t allow it.

“What do you think you’re doing?”, he asked and rose from his bed to walk over to the still trembling figure.

Silver huffed in indignation, not meeting his eyes. “What does it look like?!”

“It looks as though you lost your mind, stumbling on shaking leg and arms in the dark”, Flint replied somberly without taking offense to Silver’s harsh tone.

Neither of them wanted the other to be there, to be aware of their suffering. Yet, they both depended on the other each in their own way and Silver needed Flint in this moment, despite his reluctance to admit it.

“I just…”, Silver stuttered, before he inhaled deeply to strengthen his voice. “I just need some air.”

Flint nodded behind Silver, “Open the window.”

It was the wrong thing to say, sounding too much like a jest. Silver grimaced and nearly growled at him, while turning his head away. It was so different from his usual behavior that Flint found it hard to stomach. Looking at Silver worn down and ashamed just accentuated how much had changed in the span of a few weeks. There was no pesky smirk, no confident posture and eyes that stared daringly back at him.

Their partnership started out shaky at best, but they had complemented each other. A rare form of understanding had been reached that had surprised Flint. Truth be told, Flint already missed it. He could use some help now. A stable friend to guide him through the void. Captain and Quartermaster. They ought to be each other’s anchor, did they not?

_Then, be his anchor_ , Miranda whispered in his mind. _Help him, James._

His mind set, Flint brought the chair next to Silver and sat down. Silver didn’t move and remained sitting at the edge of the windowsill, his head turned away from Flint. Seeing how Silver tried without success to suppress the shaking of his arms and his leg, Flint sighed, “I’m sorry. I know that this is extremely difficult for you.”

Silver didn’t respond, but Flint hadn’t expected him to. The tension in his shoulders and jaw already spoke of his resentment. Did he really believe that I’d think him weak, Flint mused crestfallen?

_Show him different_ , Miranda urged him on. _Be gentle as I know you to be_.

Silver certainly looked like a scared animal waiting for the final blow. Maybe he needed a gentle hand, but Flint questioned whether he could still be gentle. Was there anything left of him to care?

_James, don’t be stupid,_ Miranda admonished enervated and Flint felt the corners of his mouth curl into a semblance of a smirk.

He might not know the right words this moment required of him, but he could express that he cared about Silver. Hopefully, that would reassure Silver of his importance. In the very least, it would help the healing process.

“Lay down”, Flint commanded and pushed Silver back on the windowsill.

Silver didn’t move an inch. “I decide what I’ll do.”

“Not on this ship. I’m still your captain”, Flint argued and managed to maneuver him to lean back.

The basin with fresh water was still untouched, the clean rag and bandages laying forgotten next to it. The moment Flint reached out to touch the bandage on the stump Silver flinched back. “What are you doing?”

“You haven’t cleaned your stump nor have you changed the bandage”, Flint countered and saw Silver’s lips quiver.

“I can do this on my own”, the man said stubborn as ever, but Flint knew he wouldn’t do it.

“Then, why don’t you?”

“I did”, Silver said defensively and Flint snorted, “No, you haven’t. Either you let me do it or I get Dr. Howell.”

He could see the conflict raging in those wide blue eyes and waited, until Silver gave him a short nod and leaned back looking out of the window. Flint carefully began removing the bandage. Although the stump would need attention for a while, it looked better. The infection was gone and the wound was finally healing properly.

As gently as possible Flint cleaned the stump, stealing a glance now and then of Silver. His quartermaster was biting his lips, starring out on the black sea. The wound was too new for this to be unpainful, but Silver seemed determined to show no sign of frailty. Once the stump was clean, he laid the stump gingerly back down and took the lotion Silver was supposed to rub into the muscles of his left thigh.

“You don’t need to…”, Silver startled as Flint began to roll his trousers further up.

“I know”, Flint just said and started to rub the substance into the hard muscles. He could practically feel Silver’s eyes on him, while the man was probably trying to figure out the motives behind his actions. Flint didn’t blame him, he would do the same. Strangely enough, Flint found that he had no ulterior motive other than elevating Silver’s pain.

It almost felt like the first few days, when Flint had cared for the unconscious man. A serene calm spread through his body, while he massaged the tension out of Silver’s thigh. Though he was aware of how intimate this was, he felt no shame and if he noticed how gorgeous Silver looked all confused, that was hardly news. Silver was blessed with an effortless beauty that couldn’t be dimmed by a missing limp or an adorable expression on his face.

His thoughts shocked him more than his actions, but Silver’s sudden groan directed his attention back to his task. “You’re alright?”

“Yes”, Silver gritted through his teeth. “It always hurts.”

“It would hurt less, if you’d do it more often”, Flint argued and heard the indigent huff of Silver, who went back to stare out of the window. Flint sighed and rebandaged the now dry stump. “Ignoring it, won’t change the facts and will only aggravate the wound.”

“The men act different around me”, Silver said instead of addressing Flint words, but Flint sat back on the chair. Silver looked deeply troubled and was fidgeting with his hands on the blanket next to him. “A couple of weeks ago they would have gladly killed me and now they look with reverence at me. Like I wouldn’t change my fucking decision to save their rotten lives in a heartbeat. I keep repeating ten names in a loop in my head, while a feel the damn axe and saw.”

“Sounds reasonable”, Flint said. He was neither surprised nor disgusted by Silver’s admission. It was all too understandable considering the price he had paid for his bravery. Silver searched at the wrong place for anger. Flint wouldn’t him offer any over this.

Seeing his lack of reaction Silver grimaced and at last looked wearily at what was remaining of his left leg. “I’m usually better in adapting, but I don’t seem able to stop those memories from haunting me.”

Flint would never admit how much his honest admittance meant to him, but his heart jumped at the words. “I doubt that it will change any time soon. Such trauma isn’t easily dealt with and most certainly not forgotten.”

Silver nodded resigned, “Thank you.”

The words were barely audible, but they made Flint smile nonetheless. “You’re welcome”, he said just as quietly, stood up and clasped Silver gently on his shoulder, before he went back to his bed.

_Well done, my dear_ , Miranda whispered and Flint felt the phantom of a kiss on his forehead.

_Why do you only speak to me, when I’m faced with Silver_ , Flint wondered and he could hear Miranda laughing. _Because you were always stranded in the matters of the heart_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mentions of character death,  
> one character is dealing with grief and another character is dealing with the loss of a leg,  
> allusions to past traumatic events,  
> nightmares
> 
> sonnet quoted is Shakespeare's sonnet 66


	3. Chains of Ignorance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are always welcome!

“Mind if I sit?”, a deep warm voice startled Silver and he looked up from his book to Mr. Scott’s bright smile.

Silver happily returned it and gestured to the empty chair next to him. “Mr. Scott, why is it that you always have time for a conversation with me after all the chaos I caused, not to mention that I took your last job from you.”

He laughed and took his seat, “The crew elected you including me. We would have all died if it were not for you.”

“So, you talk to me because of guilt and pity?”, Silver teased only halfway joking. It was common enough with the crew. Man asking if they could accompany him or help him. It unnerved him and he had actually sought refuge in the almost empty tavern, reading one of Flint’s books. To his utter relief Mr. Scott laughed once more shaking his head, answering in French, “No, I talk to you, because you speak even more languages than I.”

Silver relaxed in his chair, nodding in understanding. Miguel had been the only other person he had ever met, who could match him. His new friendship with Mr. Scott was a blessing, as Miguel avoided him nowadays. “It does feel good to flex one’s muscles now and then, doesn’t it?”

“That it does, especially if the other doesn’t uphold certain prejudices concerning the relation of intellect and skin color”, Scott argued with a smirk.

“To color blind intellect”, Silver replied and took hold of his mug, toasting.

Scott chuckled and toasted back, “To color blind intellect.”

“Well what have we here?”, a new voice interrupted them and they both glanced towards a group of four men coming to stand right next to them. Their leader a rather unremarkable fellow with a big scar across his face and a ridiculous hat leaned provocatively on the table looking between them. “A cripple and a nigger speaking in tongues. Maybe we should try an exorcism just in case the devil had possessed you. What do you say boys? Should we bother with an attempt to save their souls or should we just lynch them?”

Silver took a minute, before he answered to calm himself. It would do them no good to get in a fight, although he knew Flint to be upstairs with Vane and Rackham. Should it come to a fight, they would hear it and put a rather bloody end to it. “Whatever seems to be the problem, Mr.…?”

“Captain Bingley of the _Spear_ “, the man replied as though the name should mean something, but it didn’t ring a bell and based on Scott’s unimpressed expression, it didn’t need to.

“Well, Captain Bingley you’re obviously new here. So, if your lost I could show you to the right people”, Silver offered with a charming smile that he knew would be wasted on the scumbag standing before him.

Bingley’s smile faded for a second as neither of his supposed victims cowered in fear of his name and gripped the back of Silver’s chair in a threatening pose. “You could get lost, before I decide to remove you from my table.”

“I’m rather comfortable, where I am right now, but you are free to sit at one of the other tables, you know, the empty one’s in the back”, Silver answered in kind. His patience with this man was running thin.

“Who do you think you are, half-man?”, he seethed and nodded sharply towards Scott. “A cripple like you and his kind. You’re worth nothing. You’re not even good enough to be fed to the pigs.”

His crewmen took some imposing steps towards their table, as a welcome cold voice cut through the room, “Is everything alright, Mr. Silver?”

“Splendid, Captain”, Silver offered as though he was introducing a new friend. “Captain Bingley here just wanted to show his respect. He heard much about Captain Flint and the _Walrus’_ crew.”

“Is that so?”, Flint said bored already from the captain’s mere existence.

Something Bingley recognized just as he had recognized the name. “It’s true, I heard much about you and your crew, Captain Flint. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“The pleasure is all mine, I’m sure”, Flint offered in a poor attempt at politeness to the now four pale men. “We’re needed back at the ship, Mr. Silver. Mr. Scott, a pleasure as always.”

“Captain”, Scott replied and inclined his head slightly.

He and Silver both decided it was better to leave the tavern. After they parted, Silver caught up with Flint, who was already waiting for him.

“Are you really alright?”, Flint asked roughly, as they were walking towards the beach and Silver waved off his concern. He didn’t believe it to be honest anyway.

“I’m fine. He isn’t the first rude bastard I encountered and he won’t be the last.”

“Maybe you should consider…”, Flint started his old argument and Silver shook his head in exasperation. “No, I absolutely won’t take a fucking guard with me, when we’re here in Nassau.”

As they were talking, Miguel walked passed them carrying a basket full of fruits. Silver half turned around to greet him, but the open disdain in Miguel’s expression cut him off. It was certainly not the first time, Miguel had reacted this way. Ever since Silver had returned half a man, Miguel had avoided him briskly and Silver had yet to muster up the courage to confront him.

“Wasn’t that your friend Miguel?”

Silver was half surprised that Flint had recognized Miguel. It didn’t seem that much beside his war against England had a place on his mind. Not that he wished to discuss his friends sudden change in behavior.

“Yeah”, he said and Flint raised his brow, but thankfully didn’t press any further.

* * *

Yet, another fight and another shut door in his face and Silver had enough of Flint for the day. The man grew more erratic every passing day. The mere idea that the crew believed him capable to restrain Flint was ridiculous. Flint was like a wounded bull in the arena, frightened and full of wrath at the same time, relentlessly fighting off his enemy one by one, until he had to succumb before their endless pursuit. The question remaining was whether he would drag them all down with him in his last fight.

It was time for more agreeable company, someone, who neither pitied or feared him by mere association with Flint. Being his quartermaster had proofed to have both advantages and disadvantages. People both respected and hated him. In conjunction with his missing leg, every encounter was filtered through these two lenses. Nothing else mattered.

But one person on Nassau still treated him the same, which let him to the brothel at noon. There he found Max sitting alone at a table going over her books, while the few customers dangled around the foyer. There was never much bustle at this time of the day for which Silver was grateful.

“Hello, Max. How are you?”

“Fine, thank you, Mr. Silver”, Max replied teasingly and gestured him to sit at her table.

Silver huffed annoyed, “Christ, don’t start it, Max. It’s Silver.”

That just made her chuckle, “I’m not sure your crew would let any insult go unanswered.”

“Even their loyalty wouldn’t go so far as to risk being expelled from your establishment”, he argued and she snorted very unladylike, “I think you underestimate your position. They pressured me again to find someone for you.”

Silver sighed and leant his head back, hearing her little laugh. He liked that she didn’t try to play him anymore, since he refused his share. She hadn’t needed any explanation as she had seen his missing leg.

A new voice and a playful hand at his beard redirected his attention to a new whore, who looked down to him, while her long blond hair fell on his shoulders. “Hello darling, are you looking for a good time?”

“No, but thank you”, Silver replied politely and saw the disbelief in her eyes. Being rejected by a cripple had led to some foul words aimed at him on other islands.

“Giselle, Mr. Silver isn’t interested and now go”, Max chided her and the whore left rolling her eyes.

“I’m sorry. Your women will think I’ve got something against their profession”, Silver apologized uncomfortable.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me Silver”, Max assured him and she might really be the only person on this island, who understood his reasons, although she thought him an idiot for it. Her exact words had been, “Have you lost your mind with your leg? Your still beautiful and anyone telling you differently is a blind asshole. So, don’t undercut your own happiness because your ashamed.”

Shame.

Shame was such a multilayered emotion. Silver had known shame in many facets and got rid of every trace of it one sentiment after another. When he had felt shame for his heritage, he had debated its cause, until he knew by heart that his ill-treatment and all the pain had been caused by ignorant people and not his heritage. When he was a poor starving urchin, he had felt shame over his lack of a family and lack of possession. Seeing the other children playing or being held by their parents had hurt and it had felt so wrong that his family was long dead. Silver had felt wrong, like he didn’t belong among other people and felt ashamed for it. But once again, Silver had argued that it was neither his fault to be an orphan nor that he was poor. That life had been forced upon him. There was no reason to be ashamed. Time and again, Silver used reason to obliterate shame.

Shame was caused by other people’s treatment of you, Silver had long understood.

It all came down to perception. If someone perceives you as threat, he will treat you as such. Silver learned quickly to manipulate the perception of others. It had been necessary to survive and if it was necessary to lie to change someone’s perception, so be it. There was no shame in survival. That had been the most important lesson, Silver had ever taught himself.

Now, however…

It had become much more difficult to play with other’s perception. His leg was missing and there was no trick that could change that. He tried to redirect the attention and to both assimilate and stand out among pirates, but that didn’t change his helplessness and restrictions. The pain didn’t magically disappear, because he told a lie. No lie could make him whole again.

The finality of it scared Silver even now months later.

He was now reduced to one state of being and every instinct in him warned him about the danger of this existence. The dangers of pirate-life seemed almost marginal when faced with the dilemma of being stuck. He was stuck in a body that had become a stranger to him. His own perception was now focused on his undeniable reality – the life of a cripple. A life he could not shed, a reality he could not change. Perception was no longer a matter of imagination. Life would never be as Silver had imagined it. He was now depended on other’s and their goddamn perception. How could he have let it come to this, Silver thought desperately and his hand cramped on his trouser-leg. This shame was directly linked to his fear and he could blame no one but his own failure to think ahead, to mind his own business. His now useless body was the cause of his shame and no reasoning in the world could alter what he had become.

So, fucking helpless…

Max saw the change in his demeanor and opened her mouth to speak, as a high scream startled them both.

Captain Bingley was gripping a boy of about twelve years at his arm, who tried in vain to get free. “No, Sir! Please! I’m not a whore!”

“Silent!”, the captain threatened and hit the boy with the back of his hand under the laughter of two of his crewmen. “You do as your told, boy!”

Max cursed under her breath and hurried to the boy, who was now held by the crewman. “Pardon me, Sir, but that boy is not for sale. He is only my errand boy.”

“He works for you, doesn’t he? So, he is for sale”, Bingley countered with a cruel smirk and shoved Max away.

Silence fell over the room as the madame was struggling to get up from the ground, where she had landed, raising her voice, “If you and your crew ever want to visit my establishment again, you will leave immediately!”

Bingley just laughed and Silver grew angrier by the minute. He had encountered too many like him and cripple or not, he would not stand aside. He would not cower before someone like that ever again.

“That is enough”, Silver bellowed, when Bingley raised his hand again and stood up. “I think both the boy and the Lady have been clear.”

Bingley’s eyes narrowed and he growled, “This ain’t your business.”

“I just made it my business”, Silver replied with a smile and stepped next to him.

Bingley turned towards him and surveyed him with a dismissive glare, “What will you do? Your precious Flint isn’t here to protect you.”

Didn’t he know. He would need to be fast, if he wanted to stand a chance. Luckily, he had his throwing knifes and a pistol at his disposal, as none of the crew had let him go anywhere alone, before he was armed and trained in using his weapons. “You overstayed your welcome. It’s time for you to leave.”

Before Bingley could act, Silver had hit him with his crutch on the head, which sent the man to the ground. One of his men let go of the boy and grabbed for his pistol, but Silver was faster and threw a knife into his throat and grabbed his own pistol in two swift movements.

It was dead silent, while the captain struggled to stand up, bleeding from his forehead, while one of his men laid dead on the floor and the other didn’t dare to move faced with the pistol.

“You fuck!”, Bingley cursed him and Silver motioned to the still unharmed man before him, “Take your captain and get out!”

With wombling steps the captain was escorted by his remaining crewman and left the brothel, while the people around them slowly dared to breath again.

“Are you alright?”, Silver asked Max, who stood shocked behind him.

“Yes, I’m fine.”

Satisfied he turned to the awed boy. “You good, kid?”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you”, the boy said with wide eyes and Max gestured to one of her girls, “Nora, clean Ben’s wound and get him something to eat.”

Sighing Max touched the arm that was still holding his pistol. “You know that that asshole won’t forget what happened?”

“It must have some advantages to be Flint’s Quartermaster”, Silver said and put his pistol back, smirking as though he had no fear in the world. Her scowl told him, she didn’t believe his spiel and kissed her hand with an encouraging smile. “Don’t worry, Max. I’ll be fine.”

That didn’t calm her, of course, but at least she dropped the issue and went to look after Ben.

Silver spared a glance at the dead man on the floor. He hated killing, but men of his kind didn’t deserve any mercy.

*** Muldoon ***

It happened all the time outside of Nassau, truth be told and Silver was always cordial in his refusal. Here in Max’s brothel, however, the whores knew to leave Silver alone. He was here to celebrate with the men or to talk to Max, but never to fuck.

One of the new whores with short brown hair wasn’t aware of the rule and made her way to their table, her eyes wandering over Silver’s form, stopping knowingly on his pet leg. Muldoon could see Silver stiffening, just slightly, but it was there.

“Hello, beautiful”, the whore murmured in a thick voice and had the audacity to sit down on Silver’s good leg. One of her arms coming to rest on his shoulder, while she laid her other hand on his chest. “You seem in desperate need of a good time.”

Muldoon bit his bottom lip, waiting for Silver’s reaction. Maybe Silver would finally accept. Muldoon didn’t know whether he would be relieved or sad. On the one hand he wanted Silver to enjoy himself again. He should be happy, if their quartermaster would find some joy in someone’s arms. But that was the crux of the matter – Muldoon hoped that it could be his arms. It was mortifying how often Muldoon had imagined holding Silver safe in his arms, kissing him, telling him he was safe with him. He wanted to be there for Silver as he was struggling.

The whore played with Silver’s open shirt, before petting the smooth skin on his chest. “What do you say, if we go up and I see to give you some relief?”

Silver politely declined without reacting to her advances at all. “Thank you very much for the offer, but no.”

“Are you sure? It might do wonders for your leg. All these muscles must be tense. Let me relax them for you”, the whore asked huskily in his hear, while her hand moved from his chest towards Silver’s left leg.

Her hand never reached his thigh, as Silver griped her wrist and pushed her decisively off of his lap. “That won’t be necessary”, Silver pressed through gritted teeth, his voice stern and without his usual warm.

“Claire!” Max’s voice bellowed through the room and she magically appeared beside them and ushered the whore away, while apologizing to Silver. “I’m sorry, Silver. She is new.”

Silver only gave her a small smile and waved the incident off as if nothing had happened. His demeanor already back to his charming self.

Billy exhaled in frustration. These occurrences always got on his nerves. “Maybe you should just get it over with and take the men by their offer. It might stop this nonsense.”

“Did you give in?”, Silver countered and Billy shook his head, “That’s different. They know you to be sexually active before.”

A rueful smirk graced Silver’s melancholic face and Muldoon felt saddened by it. It seemed wrong. His expressions had always been so bright, so full of life. Now Silver sipped at his rum and pondered in an ironic-filled tone, “I’m afraid that is the new measurement of my every deed now, before and after the loss of my leg.”

“I didn’t mean…”, Billy apologized at once, but Silver stopped him mid-sentence, “I know, Billy. I’m just pulling your leg, pardon the pun.”

“Maybe it would do you some good, boy. Could bring the smile back. That did more for you than this grim visage you always sport now”, DeGroot mused.

“Mr. DeGroot, I had no idea that you’re impartial to my smile, if I had only known it sooner”, Silver said in false astonishment, holding a hand over his heart and Billy and Muldoon chuckled.

The ships master snorted into his rum, already tipsy. “Spare me the sweettalk, Mr. Quartermaster. There ain’t no vote.”

“I think, I’ll leave you to your devices for the night, gentlemen”, Silver chuckled and stood up.

Mr. DeGroot seemed confused in his alcohol filled mind, “What gentlemen? I don’t like gentlemen. Don’t bring gentlemen on the ship. Not on the _Walrus_. She is better than that. She doesn’t need a gentleman, she needs me.”

“Don’t worry, Mr. DeGroot. I won’t allow any gentlemen on the ship”, Silver assured him and Muldoon stood up as well.

“I’ll go back too.”

“Don’t you want to enjoy yourself some more?”, Silver asked suspicious. He didn’t like it, when the crew tried to watch out for him. At first, they had really accompanied him everywhere, until Silver had yelled at them to mind their own business.

Yet, Muldoon often kept an eye on his friend. He wasn’t much for brothels anyway.

Silver clearly doubted his intentions, but sighed and winked for him to follow him back to their camp on the beach.

They hadn’t gone far, when a man crossed their path.

None other than Miguel stepped into their way. He looked nervous and completely ignored Muldoon, speaking only to the quartermaster, “Silver, could we talk for a second?”

Silver on the other hand looked like he was witnessing a miracle and mumbled almost as an afterthought, “Muldoon, if you’d excuse us?”

Muldoon had no chance to reply, as Silver was instantly joining Miguel. Together they walked to a back alley, although they thankfully stayed in Muldoon’s view. He didn’t trust that bastard one bit. Who in their right mind would treat a friend so badly?

Nervously he shifted from one leg to the other. When Silver finally came back to him, Muldoon spit out, “What did he want, now that he is talking to you again?”

What he had wanted apparently was to give Silver a second chance. Muldoon just didn’t know, when Silver was supposed to have failed the first chance. As it turned out that flakey piece of shit had invited Silver to visit him in his small hut near the fishermen’s bay, which lead to Muldoon trying to reason with Silver to tell that spineless excuse of a friend to go to hell. Silver of course threw caution to the winds and was intent on rekindling their relationship.

* * *

“I don’t know why you’re still smitten with him. He is a jerk”, Muldoon exclaimed, getting more and more frustrated by the minute.

He had attempted to talk him out of meeting Miguel for a whole day now, but to no avail.

“I’m not smitten with him. We used to be friends”, Silver deflected and Muldoon could only snort in disbelief, “Friends, who fuck, now and then with others as well.”

“Muldoon”, Silver sighed exasperated, but Muldoon wouldn’t have it. “No, I won’t just shut up! He avoided you ever since you lost your leg and became Quartermaster. He was downright cruel in his avoidance!”

“You’re exaggerating. He just doesn’t like pirates and couldn’t understand, why I was all of a sudden committed to this crew”, Silver tried to calm him and explain Miguel’s action away, as if he had just made a bad joke or something.

Ostracizing your friend was no joke, not in Muldoon’s book, anyway. That man didn’t deserve Silver. He didn’t appreciate him. Knew nothing about his courage, his strength. He looked down on Silver’s sacrifice. Starred at the stump and Silver like it’s shameful, like Silver was dirt.

Muldoon would never look at Silver that way.

His worries must have clouded his mind in any case, as Muldoon did step in Silver’s way as he wanted to leave his tent practically unarmed, which Silver did not take kindly to. Giving him a stern displeased look.

“I do not need your permission.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, you know that.”

“I know”, Silver placated at once and laid a hand on Muldoon’s shoulder. “I know. You are a good friend and I thank you for your concern, but this is my decision.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt”, Muldoon pressed and turned his gaze to the ground, before Silver could see the pain in his expression.

Silver smiled and used a finger to push his chin back up so that he could look him in the eye. “He won’t hurt me.”

“He already has and…”, Muldoon countered and breathed in and out to gather his courage. He had dreaded this moment and the inevitable rejection. Part of him never wanted to utter his next words. As long as he remained silent on the matter, he could at least imagine a positive outcome to his declaration, but he felt that he had to, less Silver made an unnecessary and foolish decision. “You know you have options, right?... You know there are options if you want to…”

“Muldoon, I already told you and pretty much every of our brothers that I’m not interested in whores”, Silver grunted, misunderstanding the intent.

“I don’t mean whores!”, Muldoon exclaimed, before lowering his voice to a nearly whisper. “But there are options for you… a choice”

“Muldoon”, Silver said, not addressing the implication of Muldoon’s words. “He is my friend. The only friend I ever had prior to this life. I won’t just give him up, because we had some things to work through. Do you understand that?”

What more could he say? Silver made his choice, hadn’t he? “I understand, Mr. Silver.”

* * * Silver * * *

Walking through Nassau without any weapons beside two throwing knifes felt wrong nowadays and Silver almost felt naked. His eyes searched for potential threats that would take advantage of his current defenseless state and only a small part of him thought it funny. Not four months ago, he would have never had any weapons on him beside a small knife. Even then, throwing a knife had only been his last option. He had preferred running away or outthinking everyone before anyone could think about harming him. Both options were not available anymore though and caution was necessary, still he had made the decision to appear less like a pirate.

His hair freshly washed, the dirt that had threatened to became his second skin removed and his earrings and rings left behind, he felt like a mix between two persons, even his coat was laying back in his hammock. That left him with no cover for his leg whatsoever. It made him uncomfortable but it was all worth it, if Miguel would feel more comfortable in his presence.

Naturally, he could do nothing about the pet-leg itself, but his hair was neatly pulled back in a tail and he even trimmed his beard to something less wild. Something that actually looked good on him. He had decided to use the peg, despite Howell’s constant pleading not to use it yet. It was only a step closer to how he used to look, but going to Miguel with a crutch had felt incredibly wrong.

He was hyperaware of his appearance as he walked the last meters to Miguel’s hut and felt nervousness creeping into his bones, not to mention the increasing throbbing of his wound. This was a chance he couldn’t spoil. Miguel was too important to him. No matter, how they had parted back in England, their meeting half across the world had been a miracle to both of them and Silver couldn’t bare losing his only friend of the past.

Nevertheless, it took all his courage to knock on the door that he had already feared closed to him forever.

When the door opened, Silver straightened and was relieved that there still was the uncertainty in Miguel’s eyes and not stoic resentment. He had a chance to fix this and so he smiled gently at the person, who he had once known best and who had known him better than anyone.

Miguel swallowed and gestured him inside. There wasn’t much in the small hut, as Miguel didn’t earn much carrying and delivering goods between the different sections of the island. But there was a small bed and little table with two old chairs as well as a small casket.

“I come bearing gifts”, Silver offered into the silence between them and held up a bottle of wine.

Miguel’s lips curled into the tiniest of smiles taking the bottle and gestured to one of the chairs.

Without another word Miguel opened the bottle and produced to cups, which he filled with the wine, before sitting opposite Silver. They both let their gaze wander over the over, trying to deduce the other’s mood and motives. It used to come so easily between them, but now there was this great distance. The tension was palpable and Silver found himself fretting to speak first. Miguel had invited him to talk, but hadn’t offered any reassurance about their relationship, their friendship.

At last Miguel sighed, “Part of me wants to apologize for my behavior towards you and part of me wants to punch you in the face for your choices. I don’t know how to look at you, to find you beneath your new persona.”

Silver had known about his struggle as it had been written all over his face, but hearing it still hurt. “Isn’t that what made us special? No one would have looked at me twice, when we met and yet you did. You gave me a life”, he tried to argue and he saw the old deflection in Miguel’s eyes. 

“It was nothing. I told you back then…”, Miguel started, but Silver interjected him. He needed him to understand what their time together, their friendship, had meant for him.

“You’re my first and best friend. My one true friend, who saw something in me, when I was nothing but a hungry and filthy guttersnipe. You helped forming me into what I am today. Who knows, what would have become of me, if not for you. That is not nothing. I can never repay you for your kindness.”

They had never called it love and every time Silver had dared to speak about his feelings, Miguel had stopped him in one way or the other. Intimacy had always been on a physical level between them, never with words. Silver might not have much experience with relationships of any kind, but he knew that he had never been as close to someone as to Miguel and he longed to have his friend back, now more than ever.

At least, their old roles in the argument made Miguel chuckle, “You always were the sentimental fool between us. I guess that is one reason, why I have such a hard time reconciling my friend the pianist and the Quartermaster to the monster of the Caribbean.”

“He is not the monster everyone paints him to be”, Silver defended Flint on an impulse and Miguel furrowed a brow, less than convinced. “Truly?”

Silver grimaced, “Well, he is no saint, but then none of us is.”

Why did he had to defend Flint? Flint had no space in their conversation. He didn’t owe the man anything.

“Stealing and self-defense in order to survive can’t be compared to piracy”, Miguel countered as Silver knew he would.

“Most of them have no place to go. They are banned from society and this is their way to make a living.”

“And for revenge”, Miguel added and Silver huffed, glancing away shortly. “Possibly, for some.”

“I don’t know…”, Miguel began and stood up abruptly, not being able to face him any longer. “I don’t know how to forgive you for…”

The words cut deep, but Silver couldn’t but hope. Miguel had wanted to talk to him, wanted to repair what had been broken and that meant that there was a way he could be swayed. Sighing Silver stepped next to him, the thud of the pet leg particular loud. “Why did you want see me, then?”

“I’ve heard what you did for the boy at the brothel”, Miguel admitted and Silver heard the conflict in his voice that made it waver.

He turned and the arbitrary emotions danced for dominance in his brown eyes as he stepped closer to Silver, leaving hardly any space between them. “That”, Miguel stressed and his right hand came up to trace the curve of Silver’s cheekbone. “That was so much like you, like my friend. I guess I just needed to see whether I could still recognize you.”

His hand came to rest on his neck and Silver yearned for him to cross the last inch and claim his lips once more. There was still doubt, but likewise the possibility of acceptance in Miguel’s wanton touch and undecided gaze.

“I’m here”, Silver urged and pressed closer to his body, cupping Miguel’s face in his hands. “I’m right here, my dear.”

Something like pain flashed across Miguel’s features for a second, before it was replaced by barely hidden fondness and Miguel placed his finger on Silver’s lips to silence him. The gesture was so familiar that Silver had to repress a shudder, when he thought back on all the times it had led to more than a single touch between them.

Miguel had shown him that touch was more than pain. He had taken his time to chase his demons away. Never had he hurt him, when Silver had recoiled in the beginning nor forced himself on him. Miguel had shown him compassion, where Silver only ever knew demands. His tenderness and his almost reverence in every glance had changed Silver’s perception. In those sacred moments Silver had come to realize that lust could lead to pleasure, that intimacy was a way to connect for people in desire. His world had become so much brighter as it was painted with a new chart of colors.

His friendship and his support had meant everything to Silver. The only time he had ever known some resemblance of peace had been these two years. Two years shared under a lacking roof, with too little food and hard work, but filled with music and laughter.

God, how Silver had loved it.

How much he had loved him.

It had broken his heart, when Miguel had left him. Once again, he had found himself alone in a world that didn’t give a fuck about him. He had tried to find him, but to no avail. There had been days, when he had hated Miguel. Bleak days Silver wanted to erase from his memory. The hollow feeling of the hole in his chest, where his friend ought to be and yet, most days his memories of their time together had been the only comfort. Days on which he had done everything to hold him once more.

It had been surreal to see Miguel again.

Truth be told, Miguel’s betrayal had been forgotten, the moment he had found himself back in his arms. The pain pushed behind the walls that kept Silver separated from his memories. Why linger on the past, if they had the present?

A present, where Miguel finally pressed his lips on him, kissing him gently at first, before they both subdued to their longing and deepened the kiss. A kiss filled with relief and questions, but most of all plain want that it sparked vibrant moans.

Panting and clawing at one another like their first time in Nassau, when they had not believed their luck. The kisses grew more pressing and dirtier. Hands that searched to touch every piece of skin at once. Touches that brought him back to that tiny room under the roof, slowly healing his bleeding wounds.

Silver needed to feel like himself again, to feel whole again.

“Let me”, Silver pleaded between kisses and went to his knees.

The angle wasn’t perfect to accommodate his stump, but Silver would be damned to voice any discomfort. The less attention his newfound disability got the better. He would just need to take Miguel’s mind of it as best as he could and at least in this Silver was confident to manage that. No matter whether he was pleasuring women or men his mouth had long perfected this technique. Soon enough Miguel was groaning and his hands found their way in Silver’s locks. The long fingers were tucking at his hair the way Silver loved it, making him moan around the hard member. This wasn’t different and he could have wept for the joy this realization brought him. His grip on Miguel’s hips tightened as he started to move them needing more and Silver took him in deeper. Sucking and twirling his tongue around the head while he almost choked, when the cock was hitting his throat. Tears threatened to escape his eyes, but the sounds Miguel was making were worth any effort. His stump hurt, but Silver didn’t stop. He could give him this. They could still find peace in these moments of intimacy.

Silver tried to catch Miguel’s eyes, but he had thrown his head back, eyes closed and was panting heavily. It didn’t take long for Miguel to come and Silver swallowed the bitter fluid down without hesitation or loosening his grip on Miguel’s hips. It was pretty much the only thing keeping him upright at this point. Cursing his damn handicap Silver focused on how beautiful Miguel looked coming down from his high.

Luckily, they both had always had great stamina and Silver knew he would be ready again in a few minutes. True to form Miguel didn’t waste any time and hoisted him up by his shirt to crash their mouths together in a searing kiss. Silver wanted nothing but to get lost in this heated dance of lips and tongues, but his leg was still wobbly after having to balance out his stump. He tried his best to keep standing and to meet Miguel in every kiss, but he began to shake in his efforts and without anything to stabilize him Silver fell to the ground taking Miguel with him. The fall shot pain through his stump up to his thigh and Miguel let out an undignified groan.

This couldn’t be over. Not now and not like this, Silver thought near panic.

Through gritted teeth Silver breathed shortly through the pain and climbed on Miguel’s lap. Kissing him hard, Silver put his hands under Miguel’s shirt and played with his nipples. Although the excruciating pain threatened to make him scream, Silver mouthed and licked at Miguel’s throat and neck, until he felt Miguel’s arms encircle him once more.

Yes, he thought triumphally, when Miguel returned the kisses with renewed vigor. His hands running over Silver’s back and sides.

He could do this, he repeated over and over, ignoring the starting cramps in his legs.

But that was a mistake.

His stump would not grant him this. That fucking thing roared in defiance not to be forgotten and hard cramps shot through his leg up to his hips and lower back, overpowering Silver, who hissed in pain. The little control he had left in his extremities was lost to him and he nearly collapsed onto Miguel.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Miguel. Just give me a minute, just…”, Silver pleaded through gritted teeth, while Miguel stood up and walked back to the table, where he grabbed the wine.

Minutes of silence progressed with Miguel looking at the flash and Silver panting through the cramps.

“So where did you get the wine you so generously gifted to me?” Miguel said without commenting on Silver’s poor performance or even looking at his attempt to stand up again. “Will you lie to me and tell me, you bought this rarity on this rotten island?”

This was getting out of hands, Silver recognized in misery and swallowed back a groan, when he finally managed to stand up. “The ship surrendered without a fight. No one was harmed.”

“I assume that means that you and your crew never harmed anyone except for self-defense?”, Miguel countered coldly and Silver was searching for the right words, something that would explain piracy in a different light, but to no avail. Nothing would apologize the deaths and the cruelty inflicted by pirates on those who fought back. Miguel’s opinion was set in his jaw and hard stare. Silver’s hope to distract from his new station among such men had shattered, when Miguel was once more reminded what piracy could take from a man. What it already cost Silver and how it had changed him.

What was left of him would never be enough to cover his flaws or gain him the right attention. Miguel’s next words proofed this. “Tell me, how am I to look at you, when you chose fucking pirates as your brothers? A murderous bunch of violent nothings! How am I to fuck you, when they turned you into an unrecognizable cripple? Just look at you…”

The frustration and fear of the past months boiled up. In anger he stepped closer on still shaking legs. “What do you expect of me? I have nothing else now.”

Miguel’s face distorted in disgust and something broke in Silver. Not you, he thought in despair. Not you as well.

Swaying dangerously on his peg Silver stood right in front of him pleading with a wavering voice, “I’m still me. The same man you picked up from the streets. The same man you taught that I one day could find happiness, that I wasn’t destined to die alone in a ditch… You taught me that life was an opportunity to be taken.” He dared to reach out to cup Miguel’s face caressing his cheeks with his thumb imploring Miguel to see him, to recognize him. “You took a scared boy to your bed and showed him that the arms of another could bring more than pain… You showed me how to feel pleasure, how to find pleasure of my own… and I’m still here.”

“No”, Miguel declined and Silver’s heart seemed to recoil into itself at the unfamiliar distance in those brown eyes and the harsh words. “That boy died, when they shopped off your leg to save them.” He removed Silver’s hand from his face and looked with pitying eyes over Silver’s trembling form. “You used to be so beautiful, so full of life. You had a spark in your every step, in your wonderful eyes… Now? Now you’re pathetic.”

Disbelief washed over Silver’s face hearing what he had feared all along and yet had refused to belief. Now he was confronted with the reality of his new lot in life and it stole his last breath away.

Miguel stepped away and Silver had to catch himself on the table in order to stay standing.

I lost you.

The thought was devastating as were Miguel’s passing words, “When I come back, you’ll be gone. You’re dead to me.”

Silver didn’t know how long he remained frozen on the spot. It hurt to breath. His constant companion held him in a fierce grip he couldn’t shake off.

Pain.

Silver was tired of pain.

Why then, was his existence now reduced to this unbearable state of being?

Silver turned around and sat on the table to lift the pressure of his stump trying to regain his composer. If not for his deep-rooted instinct to remain in control of his emotions, he would have crumbled under the weight of his frustrations. His fists were laying on his left thigh and begged to hit the cursed chain to this godforsaken existence. Suppressing the urge, Silver exhaled and focused on his breathing, until his fist relaxed and his swirling thoughts had stopped diving into thoughts better left alone in the dark.

He was still alive, he reminded himself. As long as you are alive there is hope – even if he couldn’t find it with a spyglass on the frigging horizon at the moment.

The words on his lips came unbidden. Words of a magical wonderous world, far away from pain and suffering. They both calmed and infuriated him. He shouldn’t need them anymore. During his convalescence he had blamed the damn laudanum, but now?

Now he truly felt pathetic.

He wasn’t weak. Never was. He knew that and that should be enough. It used to be enough. Nowadays words and stares hurt just like any fists did. How thoroughly stupid. Silver was no child that needed love or needed damn fairytales to sooth a bruised ego.

He survived. That was all that mattered.

Still, the thought of Miguel’s rejection felt like a cold dagger pressing into his chest and he remained, where he was. He felt trapped between two spaces, not knowing which directions to take to stop his heart from bleeding. For minutes or was it hours? He just leaned on the table and fought for control.

Silver didn’t know, when he finally found the will to stand up again, grimacing in pain. The way back to the camp would be long indeed. Steeling himself for the pain, Silver made his way slowly out of the hut.

“If that isn’t the one-legged creature I came to depart of his one stand in life”, an annoying voice stopped Silver in his tracks.

This evening just got better and better, Silver thought in resignation.

“How may I be of assistance, gentlemen?”

Slowly he turned towards Captain Bingley, who spit in his direction. “You humiliated me and killed one of my men. Did you really think that would go unanswered?!”

The good captain was accompanied by three of his men similar drunk, which was both concerning and the only chance he wagered to escape with his life. There was no way he could talk sense into these drunken heads, but it might give him a chance to overwhelm one or two of them before they could attack together.

He prudently didn’t take his sword to their meeting not wanting to stress his new occupation, which left him with two throwing knifes. It wasn’t much but it was better than nothing. At least none of them had a pistol.

Silver looked around to see if there was someone out here, who could possible help him, but there were only rocks and sand. Then he saw to his utter surprise Miguel standing on the side, watching the events like a casual bystander.

“I hope you didn’t forget our agreement?” The words weren’t directed at Silver, but they pierced through his pain addled mind like bullets.

No, Silver thought almost in trance. This wasn’t possible.

In spite of Silver’s belief, Bingley threw a little bag at Miguel, “Here, that should be enough to get from this island.”

“Ever so obliged”, Miguel replied without a trace of emotion in his voice, turning one last time to Silver. “I’m sorry, maybe this end is more merciful than the sordid life they condemned you to.”

That couldn’t be. He wouldn’t… Miguel knew, god damn it!, Silver cursed. Maybe not the fucking details but enough and yet he…

He had handed him over to these brutal perverts to die.

_* * *_ Flint _* * *_

Talking with Rackham was tiresome and he wished he had indeed left it to Silver. Vane, at least, was easier in negotiations, always right to the point. Rackham on the other hand never tired of his own voice. Why, had he insisted on handling it alone? Silver was better suited for this anyway.

Cursed be his damn temper, Flint whined inwardly. If he hadn’t started that fucking fight with Silver, he would long be back on his ship.

It really had become a habit of his to argue with his quartermaster to the point that Silver was storming off and Flint throwing his chair through his cabin. Neither of them deserved that, and yet, Flint could hardly look at Silver without simmering with rage. It wasn’t fair, he knew. He should talk with Silver, he ought to talk with Silver, but he couldn’t trust himself to do it.

“Captain!” A panicked voice yelled through the monotony of Rackham’s endless monologue and they turned to the door.

In the next moment, Muldoon tumbled through the door panting heavily. “Captain!”

“What is it?”

“It’s Silver, Captain. He was attacked!”

“What?!”, Flint breathed shocked, rising from his chair.

Muldoon breathed heavily, “Mr. Silver was visiting a friend, where he was attacked by Captain Bingley and three of his crew.”

No, Flint thought.

“Is he?”, but to his relief Muldoon negated his fear. “He is alive. We found him amidst the corpses.”

“Silver killed them?”, Vane asked surprised.

Flint couldn’t blame him. Although Silver’s survival instinct was undisputed, he wasn’t the best fighter. He should really teach him to use pistols and swords. Silver couldn’t just rely on throwing knifes alone.

Muldoon nodded and something like pride hushed over his features, “Silver killed two with his throwing knifes before the other two pulled him to the ground. They…” Here Muldoon hesitated looking shortly to the other Captains and dread creeped over Flint. What didn’t he want to say in front of the others. “They… hurt him, but in the end, he was able to stab the Captain with his own knife and break the others neck, Captain. The crew is in uproar and wants retribution from the remaining crew of the _Spear_. Billy is trying to mediate.”

“Bingley was an idiot and his crew consists of blockheads. None of them are smart enough to leave Nassau instantly”, Rackham muttered under his breath.

Obviously, Bingley had been stupid enough to think that there was any scenario that he would have survived after attacking Silver. Sadly, Flint couldn’t contribute to his death. It seemed that he was once again denied his retaliation. “Who is his Quartermaster?”

“He is among the dead, Captain”, Muldoon interjected.

“Then we should enforce a vote for another Captain, while I dissuade my crew from slaughtering the bunch”, Flint grunted through his teeth. “No matter how justified it would be.”

Vane and Rackham nodded and accompanied him. Nassau couldn’t bear fights between crews.

* * *

The situation resolved rather quickly, after Flint had knocked the biggest agitator of Bingley’s old crew unconscious with one nicely aimed swinger. The remaining men ushered a swift vote to declare their former bosun the new Captain and offered two hundred in silver as retribution.

Flint had to swallow down bile as they handed over the peace offering, before setting sail under the supervision of Vane. It disgusted him to think that there was something like a price to absolve of a crime, but that was easier to sell to his own crew. Afterwards he handed his men some of the money and send them to enjoy the rest of the night. Billy had vowed to keep an eye on them as many were still furious that anyone had dared to attack their beloved quartermaster. Flint had to give it to Silver – the whole crew loved him.

At least, he decided, it would keep the men from the ship for a while and allow Silver some uninterrupted rest. Flint himself however wouldn’t find any, until he had made certain that Silver was in fact alright.

There was just a skeleton crew onboard, but Muldoon waited for him on deck. Flint knew that he was Silver’s friend and Flint suspected that at least Muldoon would like it to be more than friendship. Thus, it didn’t surprise him how miserably he looked.

“We took him to your cabin so that he could get some rest away from the men, Captain.”

Flint nodded giving his consent. He would have offered it anyway. A glance at Muldoon let him remain instead of storming into his cabin demanding some more detailed explanations of what had occurred tonight. “Is there something else?”

Muldoon fidgeted with a ring on his finger, “Miguel was involved, Captain. Mr. Silver’s friend.”

Something cold ran along his spine by the implication. “Why do you think so?”

“Miguel had treated Mr. Silver badly and I didn’t trust the sudden change in his behavior, but Mr. Silver wouldn’t listen and went anyway.” Muldoon sounded wrecked. “I know it wasn’t my place, but… I was worried and so I decided to just look whether everything was alright. Mr. Silver had just killed the last of them, when I arrived. Once Miguel saw me he ran away with a little moneyback. I talked to the fishers nearby, when you talked to the _Spear’s_ crew and they said that he had paid one of them to get him from the island.”

Christ, Flint cursed. Damn coward!

He could have sailed to the near islands to find that traitorous scumbag, but one look at Muldoon’s devastated face let him to ask, “There is more?”

“Yes, Captain”, a new voice said. “I’m afraid there is.”

Howell stepped unto the empty deck and looked the most enraged Flint had ever seen him. It didn’t bod well. “How is Silver?”

The doctor shrugged, “The wounds could be worse for what he’d been through and will heal soon.”

“But?”, Flint pressed wondering why he had to pull it from their noses.

Howell swallowed and looked to the ground not meeting his eyes, “He was raped.”

His words put a stop to Flint’s fidgeting, as the meaning of the words finally registered with him. “Does the crew know?”

Muldoon shook his head. “No, I dressed him, when I found him. He didn’t want them to know.”

Flint nodded his thanks and made his way to his cabin. His thoughts swirling and his heart raging in wrath.

This life, this rotten world didn’t allow change without blood or even one’s own survival. It was a hard lesson he had to learn. Flint wasn’t a stranger to violence. He used it to his ends and to his dismay found himself sometimes lost in the rush of adrenaline a good fight could offer him.

Rape he couldn’t condone.

It disgusted him on a personal level as few things could nowadays. Many pirates would probably call him a hypocrite – at least those, who knew the word – if they were to learn about his principle. He had done horrible things in his life, but rape seemed unnecessary cruel to him. There didn’t seem to be a point to the violence as fights between rivals or against enemy forces had. It was just a way to humiliate and hurt someone.

That Silver had not only been attacked but had to suffer such cruelty inflamed his blood and he had to stop himself from bursting through his door. It wouldn’t do Silver any good and so he forced himself to breath in and out, until he was certain that he would remain calm.

Inside Silver was once again betted on the windowsill, where he laid on his side, one hand on his own shoulder as if he was embracing himself. The gesture now so familiar to Flint, after Silver’s recovery in his cabin. A chair stood next to it, so Flint crossed the room and sat down. At once at a loss for words.

“Were you able to dissolve the fight?”, Silver asked in the silence without turning towards him.

He was covered by bandages and a thick blanket, his face hidden behind his hair.

Flint sighed, “Yes. The _Spear_ is leaving Nassau as we speak and left enough money for the crew to drink through the night. They won’t disturb you.”

Silver didn’t respond and Flint searched for something to say. What did he want to say? Why were you so stupid to trust in your friend? Why did you go alone?

What should he say?

How are you feeling? You’ll be alright. You are lucky to be alive.

It seemed all wrong and hollow.

“You fought four men on your own”, Flint settled.

He could hear Miranda snort. _Really, James? You could think of nothing else to say to him?_

_I’m not you_ , Flint answered, the sadness threatening to consume him once more.

Silver chuckled humorless still not looking at him. “It was either that or death and seriously, I couldn’t grant those four drunken nitwits the pleasure of killing me. That be degrading even for me.”

Flint clenched his fists. Something cold swapped through his chest as he realized just how close Silver had been from dying. He could had been dead. “How are you?”

“Fine, as Dr Howell probably has already told you”, Silver deflected instantly.

“He said your wounds would heal soon”, Flint conceded. “But that wasn’t what I asked.”

Silver snorted as if he thought this whole conversation pointless. “As I told Billy, Howell, Muldoon and even DeGroot I’m fine.”

“After what you’ve been through…”, Flint started, but Silver interjected with a high-pitched voice, “I said it’s fine!”

Yes, you’re totally fine, Flint thought and changed his tactic. “You didn’t wear your cutlass, nor did you have a pistol.”

“Wasn’t expecting an ambush”, Silver grunted, recoiling further into himself, until he registered the movement and straightened out again.

Flint didn’t know how to handle Silver in this moment. He only knew how he longed to have a friendly chat with Miguel. Maybe that was an opening. Surely, Silver felt betrayed and that was something Flint understood. “Your friend has apparently left the island with enough money from your attackers.”

“Whatever scenario you conjured up is fine by me, if you can leave me well enough alone”, Silver replied and Flint saw how his hands trembled slightly. He had hit a nerve. A part of him wondered though, whether that was a good move. Shouldn’t he try to calm Silver instead of riling him up? Something was seriously wrong with him.

Miranda’s voice was urging him to comfort the young man. _He is hurting, James._

Silver on the other hand finally looked shortly over his shoulder, the hurt in his eyes visible, “I was stupid, ok?! I was just horrendously naïve to even consider he would still…”

He stopped himself one hand gripping pointedly at his left thigh, but Flint could end that sentence easily enough. It didn’t surprise him that Silver was still struggling to accept his injury, he saw it every day on the ship, but how did this play into Miguel’s betrayal?

_You should have helped him. Didn’t you want to help him? Didn’t he help you? Didn’t he save your life?_ Miranda’s voice in his head admonished him.

Yes, he should have done that. He should have done a lot of things… like saving you…

“I was stupid and it won’t happen again”, Silver’s words broke through his thoughts and Flint saw that he had turned away again.

But Flint didn’t miss how Silver’s left hand was cramped right over his stump and Flint felt the heat of anger rise in him again.

He reflected on the little things he knew about Miguel and shook his head. Muldoon was right to mistrust the man and fortunately for Silver Muldoon had cared enough to look for his friend. Silver was so reluctant to show weakness that Flint couldn’t imagine the shame he would have felt, if anyone else had found him.

So, it seemed that Miguel had just rekindled their relationship to set a trap for Silver.

How superficial has a person to be? How he would love to get his hands on Miguel, not to mention those sordid bastards, who accosted Silver. It was incomprehensible for Flint how Miguel could have betrayed him like that, after what they shared, lovers or not. They clearly had a deep connection of some sort. “He is blind, if he only sees your leg and can’t see what you accomplished.”

“I’m a cripple, who now hides behind pirates”, Silver countered quietly and the words were full of self-loathing. “Why should he see past that? I don’t recognize myself in the mirror anymore… why, then, should he?”

Flint was shocked to hear the honesty in his words. Silver seemed so damn young then, so vulnerable that had to swallow through the sudden lump in his throat. The fog around his thoughts cleared somewhat and Flint wondered, how he could know next to nothing about the man before him. They had survived so much already and yet, it had only been a few months, he realized. What hadn’t changed in that short span of time?

A huff from Silver refocused his attention to Silver, who had mistaken the reason for Flint’s silence and snorted in anger. “Now you can leave and laugh about my infirmity, if you so please.”

“I don’t see anything funny”, Flint insisted. Not that he could blame Silver for his assumption. They weren’t precisely close. Flint was very aware how he had pushed Silver away from him, after Charlestown. Nonetheless, it hurt.

It hurt, because he knew that Silver would probably be able to understand him, if Flint would be more open to him.

It hurt, because he would understand Silver better, if he had cared to get to know him. Maybe he would then know what to say now.

It hurt, because Silver seemed more occupied by his own misconceived failings than by the betrayal of someone he had considered a friend.

Voicing any of this however was impossible, but he had to bring Silver’s own frustrations on the right track. There was someone, who begged to be the sole focus of well-deserved anger. “A true friend wouldn’t just abandon you nor would he sell you out like that. Maybe you should rather aim your frustrations at him instead of dwelling in your own self-loathing.”

Flint honestly didn’t understand Silver in this, which bugged him more than he was comfortable to admit. Why wasn’t Silver angry? Raging against his traitorous friend and the men, who attacked and abused him so cowardly?!

“For Christ sake, Silver! That man sold you to men, who wanted to torture and kill you! They raped you!”, Flint hissed in his frustration to get an honest fucking reaction from Silver.

Silver was having none of it and growled back, “I don’t for one second condone what he did, but I’m afraid that vengeance and holy rage never appealed to me.”

It was a blow against Flint and he flinched from the implication that his actions were merely a method to deal with his own demons. They were not and Silver ought to know that. He gritted his teeth, shielding himself from the unfounded accusation. He opened his mouth to tell Silver off, as said man whispered into the dark, “Hate never saved my life… nor compassion or anything of that sort. I forgot that once and it brought me nothing but pain. I can assure you that my council to you and the crew will be detached of any such sentiments. You needn’t worry that I can’t do my job.”

The words were bare any emotions and it felt like a punch to the gut. Flint ought to object. He could see Silver falling for the darkness that had consumed him for many years now – but he didn’t. Truth was, he needed him to function. It shouldn’t matter to him, if it drifted Silver closer to the void. All what mattered now was the future of Nassau and to stop England’s tyranny.

Why, then, had he to restrain himself from laying an assuring hand on the man’s shoulder, to take him into his arms… telling him he mattered, that he wasn’t alone?

_Because you need him_ , Miranda whispered in his ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for this chapter include:  
> racism  
> hostility towards a disabled person  
> unhealthy coping mechanisms  
> betrayal  
> physical abuse  
> mentions of rape  
> allusions to past child abuse


	4. Chains of Self-Hate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments would bring a smile to my face!

* * * Silver * * *

Finally, a real bed in a real house – or hut. But Silver wasn’t picky nor did it damp his mood that he had to share the hut and the giant bed with Flint. The Maroons had been kind enough to offer them their own hut and both of them had readily accepted.

Being on the ship was even less appealing after the doldrums and Silver enjoyed the smell of dry unsalted blankets around him and the sound of the birds and insects. Nothing moved, no hammock amidst snoring and smelling men, nothing was wet. Well, that was too generous as it was freaking hot.

He would have loved to sleep without his shirt or even naked in this ridicules heat, yet the mere thought of Flint seeing him naked now let him recoil more in himself. In a way it was still new to him, the fear of being seen. His childhood had never allowed anything close to shyness to develop. It had been necessary to learn to distance himself from his body, if a situation demanded it. Now that was an impossible task. Silver had always known that he was attractive to people of both sexes. It had been both a blessing and a curse at times, but never had he felt the need to hide his body. Then again, until recently he had no reason for modesty.

Miguel’s reaction to his new appearance and restrictions had proofed the inevitable – for from now on, he would still attract attention, maybe even more so than before, but the attention would stem from disgust or pity never desire.

At some point his body must have won and fell asleep or he thought he did. His eyes in any case were closed and he couldn’t remember hearing the Captain rustling nearer. Yet, there he was laying right behind him breathing at Silver’s neck. The smell of him was unmistakable as was his mere presence, leaving Silver to wonder, when he had developed this seventh sense.

Why, however was unclear. It certainly wasn’t for a need for warmth.

One indication for his motivation came in the form of a hand that gently smoothed a curl from his face, before sliding down his neck and sides. Silver’s eyes opened wide completely shocked, when he felt Flint’s lips kissing softly at his collarbone while his hand caressed his hipbone.

What the fuck was happening?!

He knew of course, what was happening. There really was no way to misinterpret the Captains actions, as he was moaning into Silver’s neck, where he mouthed and sucked at the skin.

“Captain?”, Silver gasped, when Flint slid his hand inside his trousers taking him in hand. “What?”

“Sssh”, Flint hushed him, his voice filled with wanton and uncertainty. “Please, let me.”

This was probably a bad idea. Silver however had always been an opportunist and wasn’t going let this chance go to waist.

Pressing back against Flint, Silver felt the already hard cock at his backside and started to rub himself against it, earning a deep moan from Flint. Hurried finger opened Silver’s trousers and freed his cock to take him fully in hand. Flint’s other hand reached under him to play with Silver’s nipples and Silver gasped, as Flint sucked hard at his neck.

Silver shuddered and groaned at the combined sensual onslaught.

The almost frantic way Flint was moving his hips against Silver’s ass, the teasing of his nipples, the licking tongue upon his skin and the sure hand on his cock was almost too much after such a long dry-spell, but Silver wanted it all. It had been eight months now, since he lost his leg and about nine since his encounter with ‘Blackbeard’. He was in dire need of some relief and new memories. Memories of great intimacy were necessary for Silver. They kept the other encounters buried behind a wall of lasting experiences. Gentle touches and soft moans that vibrated through his being and soothed any lingering effects of pain.

His right hand came up to urge Flint’s hips to go faster, while his left hand covered the captain’s hand over his dick. They were both panting and moaning, desperate for friction and release. It didn’t come as surprise, when they came way too soon.

Silver felt Flint’s shudder going through his whole body, which took him over the edge and he came with a loud gasp, leaving them to pant for air in the dark of the hut.

Before Silver could turn around or say something however, Flint rolled back to his side of the bed, leaving Silver to wonder about the whole affair.

Flint didn’t make a sound or moved a muscle. He could barely make out whether Flint was breathing. If not for the smell in the air and Silver’s still exposed cock and the dampness on his trousers, he would have thought to have dreamed this.

It was odd, but it was clear that Flint wouldn’t be in the mood to talk about what happened.

Sleep didn’t come easy for him that night and he wasn’t surprised, when it was still dark upon waking up nor that Flint was already washing himself. Feigning sleep, Silver listened to Flint’s hurried morning routine. The captain seemed intent on getting out of the hut as quickly as possible, but Silver noticed how he quickly refilled the basin with new water for Silver before he left him. Small mercies, he supposed.

Silver took off his shirt and started to wash himself with the basin of water Flint had left for him. Ridding himself of the sweat of the night, he could not but take notice of the prominent ribs and lack of muscle and fat on his currently skinny form. It was such a far cry from his previous form that he had a hard time looking at himself and finished washing quickly.

He would gain his muscles back soon enough, he reasoned. They all showed signs of their martyrium after all. No need to fear that his life wouldn’t demand heavy work right to exhaustion. The last few months hadn’t demanded anything else. Silver knew that he should clean his stump as well but this morning he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead he leaned over the water basin in front of him and allowed himself to really look at his face after what seemed like years.

His reflection in the water felt foreign to him. It was more than his leg, he knew. His face was haggard in a way, which was still a testament to the torture of the doldrums. The same went for his skin-color. Now paler like it used to be in cold regions he had occasionally lived in. The blue of his eyes seemed duller, but maybe that was likewise still a consequence from near starvation. Silver certainly didn’t see his old spark in the melancholy ponds staring back at him. Thankfully, his lips were the same as before just like his cheekbones. Opening his hair from the queue, the long strands of hair fell over his shoulders. His hair, he decided was still smooth and full of curls, something all his lovers had appreciated. It needed grooming and a hair-cut just as the untrimmed beard, but it served a purpose. He looked wild with his unkempt beard and mane – a dark beast more than a man.

Silver had deliberately chosen to change his appearance, which didn’t mean he liked it. Right at this moment he hated it. Everything in him screamed to fix the mess on his head and to make this thing on his chin presentable. Did he really need to feel like a creature, wasn’t it enough, when other people saw him that way?

But that was exactly the point of his new look.

At least, he argued, he could finally get all the knots out of his hair. It was a small compromise, but it was a start.

It took him almost an hour to get his unruly hair in order, but the effect was visible and he felt somewhat better fixing the crown of his hair back in a smaller queue. His finger still itched to cut the beard however and so he stood up to avoid further temptation. He had work to do after all. His men at least didn’t care much how he looked like, although most didn’t pay much attention to their own appearance to begin with.

* * *

They had much to do, before the Walrus was ready to depart to Ocracoke island to search for Teach and Vane. Repairments had to be made and the empty storage rooms needed to be refilled. The Maroons at least were generous in their assistance and in providing them with supplies. Silver was mainly occupied with organizing the work between the new allies and his crew. Madi turned out be a dependable counterpart in his endeavor and the work went surprisingly smooth. At a break Silver talked about the hunt for sharks and both the crew and the Marrons were a grateful audience. He felt Flint’s eyes on him the whole time he was speaking and even after, when Silver was trying his best to help with loading the last boats with provisions.

Heaving the boxes on sand with his pet-leg was exhausting and Silver found himself in danger to fall more often than he was ready to admit. His leg was hurting and started to tremble. Luckily, none of his shipmates had paid too close attention to him, when he gritted his teeth to suppress groans of pains and when he had to rebalance his load to avoid meeting the ground. The less than ideal circumstances of the doldrums had further aggravated the wound and Silver was certain it was infected again.

Naturally, Flint picked a time, when Silver was almost loosening his footing, to address him. “Mr. Silver, a word, if you please.”

Nodding through the pain of his stump, Silver followed him to a tent on the beach.

Flint offered Silver a chair, before he filled two glasses with water. “I talked to the queen and the princess.”

Silver nodded and sat down, holding in a sigh, when the pressure on his stump was relieved. Maybe he was lucky and Flint hadn’t seen his stumbling.

“We will sail tomorrow morning. It shouldn’t take us longer than two to three days depending on how the negotiations go”, Flint went on and sat on the other chair, staring intently at Silver. “You will be staying here to strengthen our alliance.”

“Am I now?”, Silver huffed in irritation, meeting Flint’s eyes without blinking. “And it never crossed your mind to ask for my opinion on the matter? I thought we agreed to be equal partners.”

“We are”, Flint stressed, “but as the queen has requested for either you or me staying behind, I thought it obvious to chose you as our ambassador.”

“You mean hostage”, Silver corrected and Flint snorted into his glass, “A bit of both probably.”

It made sense, he supposed. It was understandable for the Maroons to want some kind of leverage for the crew to come back and Flint was the obvious candidate to sail the ship and to approach Vane and Teach. Silver was all too aware of his shortcomings in this moment and the throbbing of the wound didn’t help his mood. “Doesn’t seem like I have much of a choice in the matter.”

“We’ll be back shortly”, Flint assured him almost softly and Silver shook his head. He didn’t have the energy to think about their weird dynamic or his lacking abilities, not then he could practically feel the fever coming. His forced stay might turn out to be a blessing. He would find time to rest here, at least more easily than on the ship. Still, he didn’t care much for being left behind.

“Do you really think that you can bring them to join us?”

Flint shrugged and leaned back on the chair. “Vane loves freedom too much to let the British Navy take control of the Caribbean. If I can convince him that freeing Nassau and joining with me is the way to assure that freedom, he will be an important asset in our war. Teach…” He stopped and grimaced, “Teach is different. He was never too fond of me or Nassau and he was never a team-player either.”

“Sounds promising”, Silver said and chuckled. A part of him was curious to meet Teach, while the remains of his survival instincts were telling him to stay the hell away from freaking Blackbeard.

His priorities had clearly shifted somewhat in the past months and Silver didn’t like that one bit.

A sudden movement woke him out of his musings and he watched how Flint put a basket of fresh water on the table next to Silver. 

“Here”, Flint offered and put a clean rug into Silver’s hands. “Howell reminded me that you need to clean the stump again, as we have clean water. You are also to visit him, before we sail.”

Swallowing down his first response, which would have seemed petulant, Silver glared angrily at the rag, kneading it. “Anything else?”

He could feel Flint’s eyes on his restless hands, as he replied, “Yes, there is no need for you to help with the loading. It is enough for you to supervise. The men don’t expect you to do anything else.”

“I think I know best, what is appropriate and what isn’t”, Silver insisted and looked up, daring Flint to oppose his judgement.

Flint for his part seemed to have to refrain from voicing his first thoughts as well, as he was biting his lips, before settling for, “That remains to be seen.”

* * *

The day was long and Silver had to concede that supervising was pretty much all he could do at the end of the day. Every step shot a sharp pain through his thigh up to his hip and lower back. Though the food smelled tempting and he should have made an attempt to strengthen the alliance, Silver needed to lay down and get the damn peg off. Thus, he made his slow way back to their hut to let himself fall down on the bed. His clothes stuck to his skin and Silver threw the peg next to the bed, once he had managed to loosen the damn straps. Thankfully, someone had already brought a basin with fresh water and two rags. He swiftly washed and redressed, throwing the clothes over the windowsill, before Flint came to the hut with a bowl in his hand.

“I saw that you didn’t eat”, Flint said and offered the bowl to Silver.

His first instinct was to decline the offer. He was still capable to get his own food, thank you very much! But Silver knew it wasn’t meant as an insult or stemmed from pity. It was Flint’s way to emphasize that he cared for him and in extension the crew and so Silver thanked him and took the bowl.

It actually smelled fantastic and tasted even better. Silver almost sighed as the warm food filled his still greedy stomach. The doldrums had been hard even for him. Though he was well acquainted with hunger, there had always been the possibility for him to get his hands on food in the near future, if he was clever. The knowledge that there was no escape from starvation, if not by luck, had almost been as devastating as the hunger itself.

“It is quite the blessing to have water to wash properly again”, Flint started a new conversation, as he went to clean himself from the sweat of the day.

“Yeah”, Silver agreed between two spoons. “It was all I’d wanted, when we were done. This might be paradise, but it’s a humid one.”

Flint chuckled, while he cleaned his torso and Silver tried to keep his eyes on his food. A task that was even harder, when the man swiftly washed and changed his trousers. That man’s thighs were a miracle of anatomy and Silver still remembered how they had felt around him and between his legs.

Thankfully, the captain had finished his washing and was now tending to his sweat soaked clothes, which he cleaned as well and hang it next to Silver’s clothes on the window. It had been a long time since he had owned a second shirt, let alone a small collection of clothes. That at least was something Silver appreciated in his new life.

Yawning, he put the bowl down on the small table and went to his side of the bed. He was exhausted and just wanted to sink into the softest bed he had ever laid in. Another bonus for being the quartermaster, you get occasionally partnered with the captain and get to enjoy some comfort.

“Goodnight”, he said and fell asleep, before Flint could answer.

* * *

A comforting warmth encased Silver and he felt the strength of the arms that pulled him into a protective embrace. Silver sighed, as he felt lips tracing his chin and neck. Silver pressed back into these loving touches that made him feel safe. The distinct smell of Flint woke him sooner as the gentle caressing of hands under his shirt.

A thrill of excitement washed through Silver and he wrapped his arms over Flint’s.

His inner voice warned him to think about the consequences and the cause of Flint’s behavior, but that voice could go fuck itself at the moment. Silver was too tired to let himself be stopped by doubts or reason. He wanted to feel Flint. He wanted to be hold and to forget his pain, and so Silver molded his body back against Flint, who moaned in relief.

He wants it. There was no doubt about it. Flint was hard for him and the way he was almost cradling him in his arms as he stroked his sides and stomach was so gentle that Silver wanted to lose himself in those touches.

He felt real, so centered in these moments. There was no coldness to Flint’s hands and no laugh or spite in his voice. No memories were threatening to become reality once more. Only pants and skin on skin. Searching lips and hands. It was glorious and Silver loved it.

Flint’s left hand found its way inside his trousers and cupped his but-cheeks, kneading them, before his fingers traced the space between Silver’s cock and his rim, making Silver shudder in expectation. Flint graced his throat with his teeth as his fingers circled his rim in silent question. As answer Silver pressed back into the waiting fingers.

Groaning Flint removed his fingers and Silver could hear him rustling behind him. The smell of coconut filled the little hut and Flint was back at his back, before Silver could turn around. A few seconds later Flint pushed Silver’s trousers down his hips and slicked fingers started to open him up.

A loud moan escaped Silver, as the first finger breached him, which was met by Flint. Silver longed to kiss Flint, but his captain was occupied finger fucking him, while he nipped at Silver’s ear and neck. Silver wanted more contact and pressed himself even closer to Flint and tried to fuck himself on Flint’s finger. Finally, Flint deemed him ready and the tip of his cock breached Silver’s hole. Flint was so careful, sinking ever so slowly into him that Silver couldn’t hold in a sigh, as he was filled at last.

Yes, Silver thought as his thoughts were reduced to the stretch of his filled hole and Flint’s breath and gasps on his neck. If only he could kiss Flint, it would be perfect.

Any thoughts about kisses however were soon forgotten, when Flint started to move inside him. Each thrust tortuously slow and Silver threw his head back on Flint’s shoulder. A lewdly moan escaping his lips, as Flint hit that spot in him that made him see stars.

Flint used is new range and kissed his chest and shoulder, while his other hand wrapped around Silver’s cock. Silver gasped as Flint played with the head and stroked him without hurry into fullness. Every touch and thrust was deliberate and teasing. This wasn’t about quick relief and that realization doubled Silver’s pleasure.

Bloody Christ! The man meant to torture him… and what a delicious torture it was.

Caught in this unexpected gift of tenderness, Silver strained his neck to reach Flint’s jaw for a few kisses, before he nipped at Flint’s ear and took hold of Flint’s neck with his left hand. A deep groan filled the hut, as Flint was spurred on to thrust deeper.

Silver pushed his hips back, meeting Flint with every thrust. They both groaned and panted so loud that Silver was grateful for the symphony of birds and insects around them. The slapping sound of flesh against flesh, their grunts and moans were indisputable. On the ship, the crew would have already heard exactly what they were doing.

It didn’t take long for them to reach their climax. Flint emptying inside Silver, which let him follow closely behind. His spend covering Flint’s hand.

Silver’s wound hurt despite his satiated body, but he didn’t care. They both laid panting next to each other, Flint still inside Silver. Neither of them seemed willing to move and waking them from their little bubble. Once their senses returned, Silver was certain, that doubts and awkwardness would put distance between them once more. They would need to talk about this, if their newfound partnership was to maintain. Flint, on the other hand, didn’t seem in the mood to talk and left his side, before Silver could speak up. Over his shoulder he observed silently, how Flint went to the water basin and cleaned himself. Then he came back and cleaned Silver with care but without a word. The silence between them was heavy and weirdly even louder than their fucking had been. But Silver couldn’t bring himself to break the silence and watched as Flint threw the rag to the basin and returned to his side of the bed. Once again, the smell in the air the only proof of their coupling.

Silver sighed and turned away from Flint. They would talk about this as soon as Flint was back, he reasoned. Meanwhile he felt tired to the bone and Silver recognized the first signs of a fever and cursed under his breath. Hopefully the fever would take its time. He had no mind to deal with crew’s pity should it hit tonight. It was just the morning he had to cover for and then the meeting with Madi and her mother. Nothing he couldn’t handle.

The fever came before midday and Madi found him before noon.

* * * Flint * * *

Flint inhaled deeply the well-known smell of the _Walrus_ in an attempt to calm himself with what came closest to a home. It felt wrong to leave Silver behind. If only for a couple of days, Flint was on his own in dealing with the crew. Billy just wasn’t as trustworthy as Silver was, which was ironic in relation to Silver’s betrayal. For all intents and purposes Silver should be dead, Flint should have killed him for his betrayal and yet… he did not.

That conversation on the boat had awoken him more than the wind that had finally assured their salvation. It had shown Flint how much his perception had been dulled in blind rage. The urge to act and to let the world pay for its crimes against his loved ones the only focal point. In retrospection it was so obvious. Of course, the scouts hadn’t been smart enough to plan and enact that scheme. He should had seen it.

Billy stood next to him and looked back over his shoulder to where their quartermaster grew smaller to view. More than one shipmate looked back with worried glance to the beach, where Silver stood. What was it about Silver that endeared him to the people around him? It was more than his sacrifice for the crew that ensured their loyalty to him. A loyalty Flint knew he shouldn’t test. When push comes to shove, the crew would side with Silver, Flint’s experience be damned. At least his charm would do wonders to their new allies.

At last Billy sighed and went to oversee the work in the rigging and Flint breathed a little easier. The place next to him was reserved for Silver and everyone on this ship knew it. Weirdly enough, Flint knew it too and that both scared and calmed him. He feared how depended he had become of this little shit that had stolen twice from him now. That he felt the empty space beside him was a warning in his own right.

Yet, Flint couldn’t but be intrigued by Silver’s wit. The daring of that scheme and his confession had singled Silver out as the most dangerous man on this ship beside himself. He felt his lips curl into a smirk, when he remembered how Silver had deduced the plot with the pardons on his own and with such ease.

It irked Flint that Silver belittled his own worth. The way his voice had broken, when he had called himself an invalid. Someone, who would only matter between his brethren now. What a cruel callback to his own words to Silver. It had been necessary. Even then he had needed Silver and was prepared to do anything to assure his compliance. If not for his words, would Silver have come along? Would he had helped him? It seemed unlikely, which meant that Silver would probably still be whole, if not for his damn words. That was the curse of being depended on someone. They could not only turn on you – that was something Flint anticipated – they could turn to companions and companions you can lose.

Now, however… the situation had become even more complicated and it was his own fault.

In retrospect, Flint mused, he must have lost his mind at least partially, after Miranda’s death. Why else would he risk his new partnership with Silver by fucking him? The balance of their roles was directly linked to their relationship and he threatened to undermine his authority this way. It was close to insanity. But giving in, feeling Silver respond to his every touch… the fucking noises he made. Silver was a greater threat than Teach could ever be. Cunning and violent as that man could get, he was the sort of man Flint knew by heart. He could estimate how he would act. Silver was a mystery to him.

He knew nothing about the man. Nothing about his upbringing, his skillset or how he came to be a sailor, though he hated the sea. Even his accent was hard to place. He knew nothing, except that he was smart, adaptable and fluent in various languages, but what did that account for in the end? It suggested that he had some form of education. There was also a certain paranoia behind that optimistic smile and a hidden pain covered behind a mischievous spark in his eyes. Always ready to run, ever pleasing and reading his surroundings, but never spreading personal information. Flint hadn’t even seen Silver drunk, which made him as peculiar as Billy on the ship.

Frustrated he played with his rings behind his back. Flint invested too much time thinking about Silver. Time and energy, he needed for the coming war. There was no room for distractions. Tonight he had barely slept lamenting about the stupidity of sleeping with Silver, although he should be rested for his meeting with Vane and Teach. His infatuation with Silver had to end. It was for the best.

* * *

He could go up the wall. Everything was coming together at last. Teach and Vane joined him, meaning that they had finally enough ships to make a difference. Thomas’ dream had never been so close to come true. Add to that his exhaustion and he should be sound asleep. Why, the fuck would his mind then find new ways to torture him?

It had been the first night without nightmare since he lost Miranda. Her ghost hadn’t screamed at him in anguish nor had that black figure haunted his dreams. No gunshot woke him. No vision of her had broke his heart, as she was telling him to move on. Just nothing. It should have been peaceful, resting without torment.

What had woken him had not been a painful memory. Yet he had sat up in horror. Looking down in shame as he had to face the proof of his arousal. His heart had still hammered as the echo of swollen lips and the weight of a heavy body reverberated through his body. The traces of soft kisses and gentle hands lingering on his skin.

For months now, Miranda’s ghost had been his only true companion. Torn between the agony of her presence and the brutal awakening, when he woke up in a world without her. There had been guilt, for Thomas had never haunted him in this manner, only his memories. Miranda though had been his anchor, as he sailed through the storm of his revenge. Her role had remained the same in death, but mutilated in gruesome fashion as both his guardian angel and angel of death alike.

Waking now to the dream of Silver’s comforting arms was a betrayal in itself, Flint had no apology for. Both halves of his heart had died and here he was fantasying about fucking Silver. Like he held a candle to his two greatest loves. There was no comparison. So why had his mind found peace in the memory of his sensual body?

Was he really that touch-starved that he would soil their memories with a crude fuck?

Flint listened into the dark for Miranda’s mocking tone or her ghost shaking her head in fond amusement. But there was nothing and Flint cursed his traitorous body. In how many ways would he continue to fail them?

Silent tears were running down his face as he stared at his still hard cock. Trembling in disbelieve, he willed the images of Silver’s blue eyes and dark curls to vanish.

_In my head you are not welcome._

His own words made a mockery of him.

What a fool he had been.

He was already in his heart.

* * *

Despite his promises the queen seemed surprised that he had actually managed to convince Vane and Teach to join them, but she met the two captains of the little fleet as composed as ever. Many noblemen he had met wouldn’t have looked half as regal as her and her daughter meeting the infamous Blackbeard. There was neither fear nor astonishment in their demeanor and Teach noted that with a pleased smirk. He wasn’t fond of cowards and bootlickers. Vane just looked as passive as ever, though there was a little smile playing at his mouth, when he entered the village. As former slave Vane could acknowledge the courage and strength it must have taken to fight for their freedom.

It had been part of Flint’s argument to convince Vane to join forces and without him Teach would have never agreed. Most likely he would had tried to kill Flint be it by simple murder or by duel. But the liberation of slaves and the fight for freedom for all had motivated Vane enough to talk some sense into Teach, which Flint would had thought an impossible task. Their world would end, if they did not act soon and Teach had relented.

Now they had six ships at their disposal and three experienced captains with their crews as well as the Maroon’s forces that still needed to be trained. They would need more to liberate Nassau and free the slaves from the plantations.

Silver was waiting for them at a round table in a hut that would serve as their center of command. He looked healthier and stood with more ease than last time Flint had seen him. He shook Silver’s hand in greeting, who was watching Teach with curiosity, “I see you’ve been successful.”

“Indeed. If I may introduce you to Captain Teach. Teach this is John Silver, my Quartermaster”, Flint said as the two stood in front of each other.

“Pleased to meet you”, Teach said seemingly unimpressed, although Flint saw some curiosity in his eyes. Flint could practically see the line of thoughts Teach was currently aiming at the invalid standing before him. Teach only respected strength and he knew that Flint himself had no patience for fools. The question, why Flint would tolerate a cripple as quartermaster forefront on his mind as Teach was assessing his new partners.

Silver for his part didn’t avert his gaze nor flinched away from the offered hand and Flint had to bit back a proud smile. They shook hands and Teach let his gaze provocatively wander over Silver’s small frame and pet leg. “Well, Mr. Silver. I admit that I’m surprised to see someone as you to be Quartermaster to someone like Flint.”

The comment was meant to get a rise out of Silver, who remained remarkable serene. Quite in contrast to the crew in the background, who all stepped forward in warning, which made Teach smile in amusement and turn to Flint. “Your crew is rather protective of your little half-man.”

Flint rolled his eyes faced with such a blatant approach. This wasn’t a battle he could fight for Silver however. If he was to gain Teach’s respect, he had to earn it.

So, Flint just huffed and sat down, while Silver made a step forward unafraid to get into Teach’s personal space. “They are but loyal. I’m sure you can’t begrudge them for their caution.”

Vane snorted and sat down next to the Queen. “It won’t do you any good to threaten him. That man is as stubborn as his Captain and the crew would catch a bullet for the little grasshopper.”

Teach nodded towards Silver, as he sat down, “I’ll be interested to see, if their loyalty is justified, then.”

It was a start, but only time would tell how Silver could handle Teach.

* * *

They agreed on raiding some of the smaller islands, who had only minimal protection. They would free the slaves from the plantation and if possible, steal more ships. Once their forces would strengthen in numbers, word would get around and hopefully more pirates would join them. First however, Flint was adamant to return to Nassau and claim the loyalty of the men, who had pledged to his flag.

It was more than just a recruitment trip as he had stressed before the council. People needed to know that he was still alive and fighting for their freedom. In addition to that the rest of the cowards, who would stay, needed to cower in fear of his name once more.

It was decided then, that the _Walrus_ would sail to Nassau, while part of Teaches’ fleet would start to raid nearby islands. Two of his smaller ships would remain here to train the Maroons on them. Flint itched to go back to Nassau and to truly begin his war.

He had just discussed the necessary supplies for the journey with Silver and Billy, as the princess caught his gaze and nodded towards her own hut. Sending his bosun and his quartermaster on their way, Flint followed Madi’s invitation and stepped into the hut.

It was comfortable as her rang demanded it, but not luxurious. The only thing that truly astounded him were the masses of books, which decorated the hut. A smile graced his lips before he could withhold it.

“My father always wanted me to know the world we’re living in. But I admit that they are also reliable friends”, Madi said acknowledging Flint’s expression with a smile of her own.

“You and your father are wise, princess”, he replied in kind and let his eyes wander over the titles. His hands twitched in temptation.

He had always liked Mr. Scott and his strive to educate his daughter only ascertained his opinion of the man. It had impressed Flint, what he had accomplished under the many prying eyes of Nassau, including his ward Eleanor. The slave that was in truth a king.

Madi laughed and pointed to a chair next to a small desk, as she took the other one. “You are welcome to lent them. I’d be happy to discuss them with you.”

“Your too kind”, Flint answered and sat next to her.

He was curious, why she wanted to speak with him in private and wasn’t disappointed, when she came right to the point. “Mr. Silver had struggled with an infection while you were gone. We were able to help him and we wanted to approach your doctor with some suggestion for his continuous health. I asked Mr. Silver himself to talk with the doctor, but he seems rather unwilling to care for himself.”

“That is one word for it”, Flint grumbled, as he processed the news. He had known that his stump was hurting him, but hadn’t forced the issue – a careless mistake on his part. He knew how stubborn the man was, after all. The doldrums must have caused the infection to return. “He is an important member of my crew and usually clever, but…”

“But he doesn’t want to appear weak”, she interjected displeased, but he saw the understanding in her eyes. “Yes, I gathered. I too think him important for our war, which is why I approached you. Maybe he listens to you.”

Part of him wondered, why she was already certain about Silver’s importance, yet three days was probably enough for the little shit to endear himself to anyone, even to a princess… while he was battling another infection…

Christ, Flint should have forced the issue months ago, when Silver was starting to use the pet leg, although it had been way too early. Howell had implored him to do something about it and he had seen Silver’s struggle for months, but in his grief, he hadn’t done anything and that was unacceptable.

“I’ll speak with him”, he promised at last and went to find something too heavy to carry or a stupid crewman to shout at. It would do no good, if he was confronting Silver about his recently lacking survival instincts, while he wanted to throttle him.

That damn idiot! How could such a smart man be so horrendously stupid?!

He found Silver in the midst of Maroons and pirates, sharing a story, after they had resupplied the ships for their journey to Nassau. First thing tomorrow morning they would sail to announce their survival and their intent to reclaim what was theirs. Flint would rattle the British like a godforsaken poltergeist, but for that he needed his quartermaster and he needed him in one piece.

Taking a deep breath, Flint prepared for the fight that was certain to unfold and walked to Silver, when he had ended the tale under laughs and shared drinks.

“Mr. Silver, a word.”

“Aye, Captain”, Silver replied and followed him back to their hut.

Stepping inside Flint was faced with two crutches leaning against the wall and knew instantly that it hadn’t been Silver, who put them there.

“Madi gave them to me. She wants me off of the peg leg”, Silver explained, seeing his glance and Flint saw how his ears turned red. Trying to redirect Flint’s perception by sitting on the small desk, Silver stretched out his pet leg to relief the wound from its pressure.

Even between them Silver wanted to cover his pain and that irked Flint. This time Flint wouldn’t be fobbed off by some poor excuses and promises. Determined he walked in front of him, his voice barely hiding his frustration as he demanded answers.

“Not without reason as I heard. Why didn’t you tell me that it had gotten so bad?”

Silver huffed out a small laugh, instantly trying to deflect. “It was nothing, just a small relapse after the doldrums.”

A small relapse that could have gotten him killed. How was that nothing? Why didn’t Silver confide in him? Did he really still believe that Flint would abandon him, if he was sick? The crew wouldn’t have it. Flint wouldn’t have it. Silver was too important for the mission. No one would consider him useless, because he needed time to recover from a wound. Especially from a wound he had received to save their lives. Silver couldn’t be that blind.

“You’re really stupid about this.”

“So you said”, Silver replied with narrowed eyes, clearly uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation, but aware that Flint wouldn’t be put off.

His nonchalance about his own health just annoyed Flint further. Yelling, however, wouldn’t work on Silver, so he tried reason. “Your wound never had the time to heal properly and as long as you aggravate the wound further it never will. It will most certainly become infected again and next time you might not survive it. Is that really what you want?!”

Something akin to hurt flashed over Silver’s fine features, but was gone just as quickly. Blank-faced Silver nodded in consent. “Understood. Are you done?”

Was he done?! What the fucking hell! “No, we are not done. Not until I believe that you actually change your goddamn behavior!”, Flint pressed through his teeth.

“I will”, Silver said with open honest eyes and Flint wanted to smack him. What fool did he think Flint was?

“Christ, Silver!”, Flint exclaimed in revolt. “Do you want to die?”

Silver actually flinched and something heavy pressed on Flint’s heart. “Is that the reason?”

“No”, Silver said in a soft voice that didn’t reassure Flint one bit.

“Is that the reason?!”

“Fuck it, no!”, Silver screamed and stood up. “Nothing about this is what I want. It never was! Do you honestly believe that I wanted to be a pirate? You know I loath the violence and the damn sea!” Silver’s breath was labored and his eyes shot daggers at Flint. He looked truly wild in this instance and Flint didn’t think that he had ever seen him truly angry before. “Do you believe I wanted to be Quartermaster, to be responsible for men’s lives? Christ, I have to convince them to walk into their bloody deaths most of the time and in the rest, I have to become their friend to ensure that they will gladly walk into their deaths for me!”

Taking aback by his own outburst Silver recoiled somewhat and calmed his breathing, averting his eyes to the wall.

The words were so blatantly honest, the pain behind them so palpable that Flint found himself at a loss. He had wanted the truth and this was at least part of it, though not the core. Silver hadn’t revealed the source for his behavior, but he had offered some other hard truths that Flint could neither ignore nor deny. Flint could try to placate Silver with the hope of a better future. A future that made all the losses worth it and Flint believed in it, had to believe in it, but…

It didn’t change the fact that Silver’s role in this might be the harder one. While Flint fought the actual battles, Silver was there to deal with the aftermath and had to prepare his friends to face even grimmer obstacles in the next battle. Where Flint was the dreamer and the sword, Silver was the soul keeping Flint and the crew together. He knew what role he preferred.

“You can leave, if you want”, Flint said in a soft voice and feared the possibility that Silver would in fact leave.

“Of course, I can leave, but where would I go. What would I do?” His voice was a brittle thing. “You were right. Here at least I have a purpose and people, who give a damn about me. That is something I’d never experienced and I don’t think that I will find it again, if I were to leave.”

“I said that to assure your help. I didn’t mean it”, Flint pressed and holding Silver’s gaze, willing him to understand, to forgive, if possible the words he had thrown at him in his desperation. “You know that the crew values your work.”

“Looking the part, seems to be part of that work. They won’t follow me, if they realize just how fragile I have become”, Silver whispered and looked down. His voice so full of resignation that Flint could hardly bear to hear it.

Flint stepped even closer, causing Silver to look up again. Now they were face to face and Flint could feel Silver’s breath on his face as they were holding each other’s gazes. “It won’t do you or the crew any good, if you die because of your foolishness.”

A weak smirk curled at Silver’s lips. “The crew?”

“Yes”, Flint pressed. “ _They_ need you.”

_I_ need you and you know it, Flint cursed inwardly. Don’t make me say it out loud.

Silver’s eyes landed on his lips for a second and part of Flint wanted him to take that chance, to lay claim to what he had stolen, but that could not be. This man had already suffered too much because of this life, because of him and would suffer more in the months ahead. Flint wouldn’t add this complication to the already heavy load on Silver’s shoulder. He was better off without him.

Swallowing down the response that could bring them a moment of peace, Flint stepped back and said nothing of relevance. He merely turned to the door and halted one last time to Silver, who was still breathing heavy. “You’re not alone in this. We are partners and I will help you, but you also need to help yourself. Fuck pride and use the crutches.”

* * *

He should have known by now that Miranda was gone. She had said that she had to leave and yet, it both soothed and hurt him to be no longer haunted by her ghost. Whether her ghost had been a curse or a blessing was hard to tell. All he knew for certain was that he had again awoken not to her pale face and warm brown eyes, but to blue deep pools full of pain and longing.

Half asleep, half awake Flint hunted through the fog of his demons, uncertain, who he wanted to find. The memory of Miranda’s loving but sad smile blended with Silver’s broad chest and beautiful hair. A mist full of failed promises and long forgotten dreams. Words of the past and words speaking of a possible future battling for dominance.

Flint was blatantly woken from his demons, when he heard Silver rolling nearer to him. Before Flint had the mind to turn around and ask what his quartermaster might want at this hour, Silver had already pressed his chest to Flint’s back and Flint involuntarily pressed his whole body in the delicious heat behind him. The tell-tale of Silver’s half-hard cock at Flint’s backside made Flint groan and his right hand found its way to Silver’s hip.

Every fiber in his body ached to give in and let his troubled mind drown in lust. The problem however remained – it wouldn’t just be lust, a stress relief with a stranger. Giving in now would be dangerous. The potential of crossing boundaries was too great. It was so easy to get lost in Silver’s smart mouth, his responsive body and gentle caresses. Silver was a person, who reveled in pleasure and the experience of every single moment. It was addicting to observe his pursuit and to bring him to the edge again and again, until he was close to lose control, moaning and arching his back. The line between making love and fucking was near impossible to obtain with Silver. It had already almost happened, when they first fucked.

His memories of their coupling were ingrained in him and made his cock twitch. There had been a moment, when Flint had responded to Silver with utmost care. His lust for the beautiful man had turned to fond desire, taking Silver with the most thoughtful thrusts. It had shocked him to the core that the first real fucking after years had ended in languid lovemaking.

“What are you doing”, Flint asked, which was probably the most redundant question he had ever uttered.

He felt Silver’s chuckle through his lips on his neck and how his beard brushed against his shoulder. “What do you think?”

“Silver”, Flint started and halted, as he couldn’t think of a single reason Silver’s hand shouldn’t be on his cock.

Silver’s thumb played with the foreskin of his cock and Flint felt his mind going blissfully blank for a second.

“Shall I suck you this time? Or would you like to fuck me again? I could ride you… you seemed to like that”, Silver whispered with a raspy voice mouthing at his neck and Flint’s breathing hitched.

_Yes_ , the word was practically screaming to get out, to voice what he wanted more than anything else.

“I’m sorry… It’s just that I’m still rather tired from the duel”, Flint said instead as a way of explanation and felt like an idiot for it.

“Of course”, Silver conceded somewhat sheepishly, retracting his hand at once as if he was burned and Flint knew the man was blushing. “That was thoughtless of me. Get some rest, Captain.”

He could hear the rustle of clothes as Silver was hurrying to roll back to his side of the bed.

It was obvious that Silver was embarrassed, although he had nothing to apologize for. After all, the last two nights of their shared sleeping arrangement, Flint had instigated the contact without actually asking for permission. At least not with words. He had just simply acted on his needs, not thinking about the consequences. It was only natural for Silver to assume, he had the same right to ask for intimacy as Flint.

This was his fault, he knew. He should have never indulged in his needs. This goddamn relapse in judgement. He had used him and Silver didn’t deserve that. Yet, he still wanted nothing more than to actually take Silver in his arms and kiss him breathless.

God, he was fucked.

Well and truly fucked.

Even in the dark of the hut Flint could see that Silver had recoiled in himself, his right hand grasping his left shoulder, embracing himself. He had no doubt that if Silver were aware that Flint could see him so clearly, he would straighten up to avoid showing further weakness. The sight hurt Flint and his hand twitched to touch Silver.

_If you’re not strong enough to do it. I’ll do it for you._ His words hovered over Flint, reminding him of his own weaknesses.

Silver had been right.

Flint did consider himself smarter and stronger as his crew. A mistake as it turned out. Silver had played him. He had underestimated the man. A man, who had proofed himself as quick thinker and capable asset in manipulating the crew. After their tryst, Flint had shoved him away, especially after Charlestown. His own grief too great to bear Silver’s loss as well.

Flint had been careless. He should had done something, when Howell had told him about the growing infection in Silver’s leg. The pain had been so obvious in Silver’s movements that Flint still wondered, how the crew hadn’t seen it. Was a charming smile really all it took to convince those blockheads? It seemed implausible. Silver’s once radiant smile had been reduced to a poor imitation that spoke more of the strength it took to keep it in place than anything else. Still, Flint had been too preoccupied to truly intervene.

Flint’s mind went back to the attack of Captain Bingley and to Miguel’s betrayal.

Had Silver met anyone since the loss of his leg or had at least a quick fuck with a whore or something? It was likely that his own misguided affections had been the first for Silver, since the amputation.

Christ… he was such an asshole.

Miranda, hell Thomas, would be appalled by his actions.

Silver should feel angry. He should have shouted at Flint to stop and shoved him away as he deserved. Their quick and impersonal coupling such a far cry from their time at the beach. Silver must have realized that Flint hadn’t been in his right mind. Flint hadn’t even been able to look at him. Yet, Silver had allowed his ministrations, had met his touches as much as Flint had let him. Flint wondered whether Silver might be just as touch starved as him…

Did Silver wonder about the true reason of Flint’s rejection? Based on Silver’s hard grip on his own shoulder it was a given. His brilliant mind was running a mile per minute and Flint feared that he was searching for answers at the wrong place.

Flint was suddenly reminded of Silver’s humiliation, when he had been too sick to care for himself. How his face had distorted into pure helplessness for a minute, after falling the first time on his crutches in the cabin and then later on deck. Silver was ashamed of his stump, of his whole appearance, which was such a stark contrast to his previous unabashed nakedness in front of others. It was sickening to consider that Silver could think himself less of a man because of his leg, as if his mind wasn’t as sharp as ever… or that his attractiveness had vanished together with his leg. Could it be that Silver would find the fault in his appearance? The thought was ridiculous and yet…

Flint didn’t give a shit about his stump. A handicap didn’t make a man.

If anyone was to blame for Silver’s insecurity it was Flint. If he had been less dismissive or hadn’t outright tried to extract Silver out of his mind, he could have helped Silver coming to terms with his new situation. He should have been there for him.

Instead, Flint had continuously recoiled every time he had succumbed to the need to connect with someone after Miranda’s death. Was there even a different interpretation of his actions from Silver’s point of view?

Shit…

Every fiber in his body screamed to take Silver in his arms, to make them both forget, to feel needed, just to feel something other than pain.

* * * Silver * * *

Fool!

Stupid fool!

This was bound to happen and Silver had still acted on instinct. Hadn’t he wondered, why Flint had refrained from being face to face, from being touched by Silver, looking Silver in the eyes?

How often had he to fall prey to his damn heart? His need to be touched and to be seen was his greatest weakness. Needing others was dangerous. Needing Flint?

That was close to suicidal.

Flint wasn’t stable. His Captain’s mind was threatening to become a dark void that would swallow them all, if Silver wasn’t careful. Yet, mere days ago Flint had been on the precipice to sacrifice himself for his crew. The fierce pirate Captain almost broken by the world and the still unknown ghosts of his past. If not for Silver’s intervention, Flint might be dead. Hell, they all would likely be dead. Instead Flint had once again done the impossible and saved them, just to sail away without Silver to fight fucking Blackbeard.

No, Flint wasn’t sane.

But he wasn’t insane either nor the brutal monster everyone saw in him.

Silver had known careless and ignorant monsters as he had known heartless monsters, who reveled in cruelty and violence. Flint was neither of these things.

Flint was driven and in pain. The fight for Nassau or merely his fight against England the only thing that kept him from drowning in the grief for Mrs. Barlow. Their capture had been probably the first time Flint was offered a chance to reflect on his path of destruction and the toil it was taking on his soul. Silver had seen his self-hate and his doubts once more in the cage. It had hurt as strange as it sounds, but it had hurt to see Flint so thoroughly beaten down. No wonder that his mind had spiraled into fresh despair, once his relief and renewed determination for their coming war had died down during the night.

Flint had probably just needed someone to hold, unwilling to be hold himself. An anchor to his whirling thoughts. Silver had just been the accessible person next to him. That was all. There was no reason to believe Flint could actually want him and anything more was completely out of question for both of them. Flint was grieving and didn’t need a lover and Silver… Silver had never needed a lover.

They were partners now, maybe they could become friends over time. That was more than enough, more than Silver thought possible.

Yet, he had hoped. A stupid part of him had clung to the crazy hope that Flint would see him and not recoil.

He should know better by now.

A rustling sound alerted Silver to Flint moving towards him and Silver looked over his shoulder, only to be turned on his back by Flint’s hand. A hand that wandered from his shoulder to his jaw, where his thumb started to trace the contour of his lips. There was hunger in Flint’s eyes that made Silver shiver in excitement. The lovely green had all but blackened as Flint was staring at Silver.

Blinking up in surprise, Silver asked, once more confused by Flint’s actions and hopeful at the same time, “I thought you’re tired?”

A grim expression washed over his face, before his mouth curled into a daring smirk, “Fuck sleep.”

The next thing Silver knew was that he was kissed within an inch of his life. Still somewhat cracked lips were chasing for every intake of breath, licking and nipping at Silver’s lips and tongue. Silver used Flint’s shirt to pull him over his body and sighed into Flint’s mouth as his weight pressed heavenly down on Silver. He could feel the movement of these hard muscles under the clothes and the swelling of Flint’s cock.

Silver’s hips bucked up on their own, hunting for friction and their cocks brushed together. An uncharacteristic loud moan escaped Flint, and Silver found himself pulled up and being undressed with hurried hands. Silver was only too happy to help Flint in his task and to remove the captain’s clothes as well. Once they were blissfully naked, Silver switched their positions and sat down over Flint’s hips. He didn’t leave Flint any time to react, before he was kissing along his collarbone, down to his nipples. They just begged to be devoured and Silver licked and teased them with his teeth, earning him another groan.

Yes, moan for me, Silver thought and moved his hips purposely over Flint’s pelvis.

Flint threw his head back and ached his back into the touch. Silver bit back a smile as he saw the open lust in Flint’s face. Christ, he was beautiful like this and Silver wanted to make him lose control.

Minding his still aggravated stump, Silver shimmied down over Flint’s body until he kneeled between his legs. Inhaling the musky scent of his pubic hair, Silver took one of Flint’s leg and bend it lightly to kiss a trail back up to his groin. His tongue traced the thick muscle of his thigh, biting down, making Flint quiver and gasping. Stealing a quick glance Silver saw Flint’s eyes were transfixed on Silver’s face and mouth. Satisfied with the attention, Silver caught Flint’s stare and licked shortly at the foreskin of Flint’s cock. Flint’s hips jumped up and Silver had to hold him down. Smiling he licked the underside and started to fondle Flint’s balls with his hand. He played with the foreskin of the cock, while his other hand was softly stroking the rest into full hardness. Only then, did Silver swallow almost the whole of the cock down to his throat and sucked hard.

“Fuck”, Flint cursed between his teeth and his hands grabbed Silver’s hair making himself moan obscenely.

Silver began to suck him in earnest and soon Flint was trembling with the effort to lay still and Silver bathed in the sheer wanton shining in those dark pools. His stump started to hurt, but he ignored it. It was still tolerable and his performance didn’t suffer for his slight adjustment to his position, relieving some of the pressure.

He could have made Flint come like that, but the captain had something else in mind.

Using his leverage, Flint pulled Silver up to him for a kiss, so that Silver was sitting in his lap chest to chest with Flint. The new contact of their skin was marvelous and Flint went frantic in his effort to touch and taste Silver. His hands and his mouth leaving fingerprints and wet trials on his skin.

Yes, Silver thought desperately. Touch me. Feel me. Be with me.

It was everything he wanted. What he needed.

Then it stopped.

Confused Silver moved away from Flint’s now still lips and looked at him. His face was pained and Silver couldn’t understand, why. Why wouldn’t he look at him?

“Captain?”, Silver whispered concerned and finally registered where Flint’s right hand was and where his hard gaze was aimed at.

His stump.

He was looking at his stump.

Panic threatened to overcome him, but he was being paranoid. That had to be it. Flint wasn’t like that. He had never paid attention to Silver’s handicap.

Maybe, Silver rationalized, he was simply worried of hurting him. “It doesn’t hurt. It won’t put a strain on it, I swear”, he tried, but to no avail. Flint continued to stare not even remotely reacting to Silver’s words.

Fighting the impulse to flinch away or cry, Silver tried a different approach.

“I can make you forget it”, Silver whispered in a husky voice and bit lightly at his earlobe. “You know I can.” He kissed and licked along Flint’s chin, nipping just below, while gently rocking his hips on Flint’s half hard cock. “All you have to do is be with me. Right now. Right here.”

Flint, please, he pleaded so freaking loud in his mind. Waiting for a reaction, a goddamn movement. Just something to know, he was here with him. Growing both more concerned and scared by the minute, Silver tentatively lifted Flints chin up, “James?”

Saying his name for the first time. And yes. He was looking at me, Silver triumphed in relief. “I’m right here.”

Something shifted in Flint’s eyes and with a guttural groan he dived for Silver’s mouth, devouring him in a kiss that stole Silver’s breath away. Demanding hands over his body and searching lips blending out all other sensation and Silver moaned in near ecstasy. Flint grunted and pressed closer in responds. It seemed like Flint wanted to vanish inside Silver and he didn’t mind one bit. Whatever Flint was looking for, Silver was adamant to give it to him.

“Yes, James”, Silver mumbled overjoyed, as Flint kissed and licked hungrily at his neck. He was so far gone already, so relieved… Silver became unaware of his mouth running free. “I’m here. We’re here. What do you need? Tell me, James. I’ll give you… James, please… Everything… We’re…”

“No”, Flint breathed miserably and Silver startled violently, staring uncomprehending at his captain as his words, as the turn of this moment, finally registered with him.

Flint didn’t look at him. Didn’t move. His face was contorted in anguish and his right hand was once more on Silver’s stump.

He doesn’t want me, Silver realized in shock.

It stung.

This was a new low of humiliation, even by Silver’s already rotten standards.

“Fuck you!”, he cursed Flint and pushed him away.

On instinct Silver wanted to storm away, momentarily forgetting his damn lack of a leg, which left him almost falling to the ground. Flint catching him in the last minute just made the whole misère worse and Silver halfway threw himself away from him, rolling over the damn bed. In utter humiliation Silver pushed himself into his trousers and crawled the last meter to the wall. His stump screamed due to the poor treatment but he couldn’t give a fuck, grabbing the crutch and heaving himself upright.

“Silver…”, he heard Flint’s broken voice call after him, but he didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t need a fucking apology. No explanation, how this was a mistake… how…

He was a mistake.

Hot anger boiled in his guts and he stumbled forth and forth into the damn forest behind the hut.

Why the fuck, did he start all of this, when he didn’t want him?! When he couldn’t bear to look at what was left of him…

Fuck!

He nearly lost his balance while tripping over a root.

Fuck this and his whole damn life!

Tears were threatening to spill over his cheeks and Silver stumped his damn crutch hard to the ground with every hoppling step.

No! He wouldn’t succumb to frailty! No matter what!

In his haste Silver missed a stone and found himself falling face down to the ground right in front of a tree.

“Shit!”, Silver yelled and breathed through the pain shooting through his body.

So pathetic… so helpless…

“Fuck!”

On impulse Silver grabbed his godforsaken crutch and hit the tree with it. Over and over again. Yelling and cursing his frustration, his fear, his never ending pain…

Then, Silver sacked to the mud amidst the broken pieces of his crutch and fought for control.

Don’t lose control.

Don’t cry.

The rules were simple.

He would not… could not lose control like that.

Concentrating on his breathing, Silver slowly calmed down until there was nothing left than the hot heat of embarrassment and the cold feeling of helplessness he had fought for years. The dichotomy of his flushed skin and his hairs rising from goosebumps was just the last variable to his infinite conflicts.

A nothing that named itself.

A thief, who sacrificed his leg for men he had robbed.

A cripple among pirates.

A beloved quartermaster, who had no idea about sailing or fighting.

A loner, who needed others.

His continued breathing soothed the shaking and dried the unshed tears, but it didn’t solve any of his issues. It never did.

Life would throw conflict after conflict at him and Silver prevailed. He found a way out and moved on. Most would say, he was just running and he did run. Running meant surviving and that had always been the one thing he had excelled at.

Now?

Now running was even less an option in the figurative meaning. He had invested too much in this crew already to run. He mattered here. In that at least Flint had been right. For once in his life there were men, who needed him and he needed them. If only that was enough.

The truth of the matter was that Silver needed more than respect born out of guilt. The men sought him out with their problems and listened to him. It felt good to be needed and accepted. The men thought him capable to reign in the captain and he thought he made progress.

But he was a fool to believe that. They weren’t partners yet. Flint didn’t trust him yet. Let alone whatever their physical relationship was…

Silver was likewise lacking in certain fields of expertise that his role demanded. Flint knew that. Why, would he truly see him as an equal?

That, Silver realized was an open.

Rolling down on his back, Silver contemplated his next moves.

It was a risk, but it was riskier to remain a liability. This way he would truly earn the crew’s respect and maybe over time Flint’s. In the very least, Silver wouldn’t be helpless any longer.

His mind made up, Silver heaved himself up by the tree looking down at what remained of his crutch.

Well, the way back would take somewhat longer.

Hopping from one tree to the next was straining and truly embarrassing. Silver thanked the stars above him that no one was seeing him on his long way to the hut and that a jungle was literally made of multitudes of trees.

Silver hadn’t hopped far, when Flint crossed his path with the second crutch in hands.

Coming to a hold, they stared at each other awkwardly for a moment neither wanting to address what had occurred between them. Silver wanted to forget it ever happened, although that was just another false dream. That didn’t mean he couldn’t pretend that something hadn’t happened.

“I came after you and saw that you went into the forest”, Flint said surprisingly nervous and raised the other crutch up. “You’re not used to move with crutches, especially through a forest and I thought…”

Flint seemed at a loss for words and looked to the ground.

“You’ll teach me to fight.” Silver said as a way of answer and took the crutch out of Flint’s hand, who looked up dumbfounded. “We will be here in the coming months between raids. You’ll find time to teach me to fight and sail.”

For a moment Flint stared at him thunderstruck, before his mouth turned into a small smile. “I’ll do that.”

* * * Flint * * *

Flint did train him on the gun as well as on the cutlass. Every free minute he could spare Flint used to ascertain Silver’s survival. He taught him strategies and enlisted DeGroot to help in Silver’s sailing-lessons. Silver’s progress was remarkable and Flint found himself caught in discussions over battle tactics and see charts with his second in command almost daily.

It was exhilarating.

Weeks and months passed binding them closer together. Flint couldn’t remember when he last had lost track of the time so often and lived every moment with such attention. It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, of course. They were at war and all wars are bloody.

After their reanimation in Nassau and the death of Dufresne as well as the rescue of Rackham and the near death from Vane – only adverted by Billy and his men – they had won their first battle against Hornigold. The cache was safe and their enemy had lost some of their ships and a good portion of their troops. The alliance had not waited for them to regroup and instead raided the smaller islands and freed the slaves as well as prisoners. Their fleet had grown as they had used their ships to capture more battle suitable ships and trained their new recruits on them. Some pirates joined them, but most still hesitated and remained in Tortuga and the like.

Billy had started a propaganda campaign in Nassau that swept over the whole New World as stories of Long John Silver traveled like bonfires. Madi reigned over the assimilation of the newly freed slaves into their new growing society, while the island struggled more and more to feed and house all of the rebellion. The council had to constantly provide new provisions from raids, soon they would need to find additionally islands. It would be harder to defend a multitude of islands, but it was inevitable. Just as inevitable as their coming triumph over Nassau.

Woods had barricaded himself in his harbor and had hardly been able to recover his troops after their defeat and the sickness that had decimated their numbers. But he and his new wife remained stoically in Nassau and the council had yet to find a way to beat them once and for all. At least England couldn’t send more ships after them, because of their new war with Spain. The alliance had prudently desisted from attacking any ships from Spain, lees they drew their attention.

The revolution was coming. Flint could feel it in his bones. They only needed something to turn the tide to their favor, something that would inspire the other pirates and hopefully other settlers of the New World to join their force.

Cleaning his weapons, Flint still felt the rush of battle. He had already washed up and changed his shirt. It had been another successful raid on an island. Their fleet was now carrying the provisions of the planation’ owners and three hundred freed slaves back to Maroon island.

He looked up as the door to his cabin opened. Silver came inside and set down on a chair without much ado.

“Are you hurt?”, Flint asked, letting his gaze search for injuries on the younger man.

Silver shook his head, “No, you?”

Flint declined and offered his quartermaster a rare satisfied smile. “That was good work.”

“We are a great team, I’d say”, Silver agreed and Flint filled two glasses with rum.

“I’ll drink to that.”

Silver had stayed on board and overseen the attack from the ship, while Flint and Vane had led men on shore. Flint’s mem had already assured the slaves safety, before Silver had ordered the little fort destroyed by canons. Their losses had been minimal. If Rackham and Bonny had been nearly as successful in their raids, they were due a little celebration. They would rest a little, while Teach would continue to hunt down the last ship of Wood Rogers fleet. Soon they would have to decide which of the bigger islands they would attack.

Despite their victory Silver seemed dispirited. His smile fitted to the occasion without much life behind it, while he swirled the rum in its glass, instead of actually drinking it.

Flint knew well enough the reason for his woolgathering and tried to sheer him up. “Madi seems awfully impressed by you.”

“She is impressed with our results so far”, Silver deflected with a small smile, but Flint insisted, “One could argue that all her stares and private conversations with you point to a crush she has on a certain quartermaster.”

That caused Silver to grimace in exasperation, although all in good nature humor. “Not you too, the man are teasing me enough. I won’t deny that she intrigues me and if the situation was different, I’d be fighting for any moment of her attention. But I’m no fool. She lives for the cause, for her people. Even if she had a little crush on me, it would have ended up in disaster for the both of us. At one point or another our interest would have crashed and either I’d lost her to this war or I’d lost her by trying to save her from this war.“

“It isn’t fair”, Flint agreed, sobered by his reasoning. “You’re both so damn young, too young to be burdened to lead people into a war.”

Rubbing his thumb over his brow, Silver gave him a rueful smile. “That is the world we found ourselves in.” There was no accusation like Flint had feared, just resigned acceptance of circumstances that were out of their control. While it relieved some of Flint’s dread, not to be seen as the source for Silver’s current position, it didn’t erase his friend’s misery.

He wished he could take the load on his shoulders alone, but they were way past this point and Silver knew that. Leaning back on the chair, Silver sighed and looked out of the window. “Did you see their faces? They were terrified of me.”

That was an understatement. The captured men had looked between Flint and Silver in horror as though two demons had risen from hell to devour them whole. Flint was used to this and he had fed the stories to gain this reputation to further their cause, but Silver was new to this. Without his own choosing he had to face a reputation that rivaled Flint’s.

Though he knew that Billy had ulterior motives to choose Silver as his ghost of terror, he actually agreed that Silver was perfect for the role. As Silver himself had pointed out, he was alone in being both liked and feared. Their growing alliance respected Silver and one day they would follow him to whatever end. Enemy and friends alike didn’t dare to come between the two of them, when they were of the same mind. Even the council bowed to their shared voices. It was intoxicating, Flint wouldn’t deny it. Both of them held the power equally. Yet, he knew that Silver had struggled with accepting this new role, ever since he heard about Billy’s ghost story.

“I hate Billy sometimes, you know?”, Silver chuckled without humor. “It’s ironic, because he is my friend. Miguel had been my only friend before I joined this crew and that was apparently a one-sided relationship. I realize that I’m not an expert in friends, yet I’m quite certain that friends shouldn’t use your name for a fucking ghost story for war propaganda. He weaved me into a story of his creation because I’m his friend, believing me incapable of betraying his trust but he broke mine… He knew that I didn’t strive for power, that I distain violence and conflict. I certainly never wanted to be feared… Now I’m trapped in a narrative without any say which direction it’s headed, a narrative I can’t just escape like I used to… A skin I can’t shed and a name that was distorted to a creature out of nightmares… The irony that I’m forever resigned to fulfil a character I didn’t create. The liar, the story-teller, who became the victim of his own failure to keep his plot on track… what the fuck happened to me?”

It spoke volumes that they both were now comfortable enough to trust each other with their worries. Not that Silver had become more straightforward in sharing them and most of his past was still a mystery, but step by step they grew closer. Flint was grateful that they had managed to salvage their partnership despite his mistakes. Although part of him still longed for the lost intimacy, the renewed focus on Silver’s training had reestablished boundaries and kindled their friendship alike. Their success stemmed mostly from their strong bond, Flint was sure of it. On the downside it meant that he cared for Silver and his plight with being the villain, a role he was so familiar with. “You might not have chosen this role just as you didn’t choose to become quartermaster, but if you were truly to embrace it, you could dictate how this story continues, maybe even rewrite your character. This might become the very narrative you’ll never wish to escape.”

Silver sighed, but nodded slightly. It was of course easier said than done. With all due respect to Silver’s talents as storyteller, manipulating an already widespread narrative would be a true testament of skill and will, plus a great deal of luck. Silver never wished for this life, less alone his role in it. It made Flint wonder belatedly, how Silver had actually envisioned his life. “What did you wanted to do with your share from the _Urca_? I never asked.”

Chuckling Silver brushed his question off, “You’d think it silly. After all, I had no intention to change the world. My dream was purely selfish.”

Flint raised his eyebrows and gestured for him to go on. To his utter enjoyment Silver seemed bashful, but said so quietly that he had to strain to hear him. “I wanted to buy a tavern – obviously I’d hire a cook.” Flint chuckled at that and Silver’s gaze turned inward imagining his dream. “I would listen to the stories of the customers and I’d have a piano in a corner.”

“That doesn’t sound silly at all”, Flint replied and could picture Silver absorbing all the traveling stories of a full tavern. One aspect however had caught him off-guard. “You play the piano?”

“Yes”, Silver laughed as he saw Flint’s astonishment.

“My favorite work ever was to play the piano in a restaurant”, he explained and a true smile graced his face, while he was lost in memory. “I hardly earned a penny, but I had a little room under the roof of the restaurant, which I shared with Miguel and a free meal every single day. Of course, the owner was penurious and I had to find smaller jobs in the morning from time to time, when the meals were next to nonexistent. But I loved it. I’ve always knew just what to play to make them laugh, cry or dream. It was almost like I was their conductor and I led them to the tact I wanted. Mr. Hardy made quite the money through my assistance.”

“I can imagine.” Flint had no problem to believe that Silver could direct an entire hall to his will. It was in a way very similar to his work as quartermaster and yet so very different. Silver as happy but poor pianist had such an innocent quality to it that Flint felt remorse to never have seen it. “Why, did you leave?”

Silver shrugged, “The taxes went up and Mr. Hardy had to dismiss three employees including me… and Miguel. That is why we decided to hire on a ship. Neither one of us wanted to sail, but we both wanted to see the world. Sadly, no ship wanted to hire us both. I didn’t want to sail without him. I thought our friendship was more important. He however left the next day on another ship leaving a note for me saying, ‘I’ll always remember you, but now live your life’. I guess his later betrayal shouldn’t have come as surprise.”

The old anger of Miguel’s betrayal began to boil in Flint’s chest and he could see how Silver struggled to keep the memories at bay. When he spoke however there was only sadness. “He was the one, who found me listening in from the street, while one of the waiters tried to play the piano. I was a dirty skinny street rat at that point… yet instead of yelling at me to get lost, he just asked whether I play and led me in. The customers were shocked and Mr. Hardy came running from the kitchen, when I started to play. Two hours later I had work, a roof over my head and a friend. For two whole years I had a life. Can you imagine that?”

Yes, Flint could. He knew how it felt to find happiness just for it to be taken from you. It wasn’t the same naturally and Flint still believed Miguel a self-serving bastard, who exploited Silver more than he had helped him, but Miguel had obviously been important to Silver. The life Silver pictured was so modest in contrast to everything Flint had imagined Silver’s ambitions to be. For someone, who lived on the street, it must have been close to heaven, Flint supposed.

Silver was miles away, completely lost in his thoughts, as if he had to search for the memories in a faraway place. “I needed him back then. I don’t know, what had become of me, if he hadn’t put me under his wings. There were many things I knew other would never had to learn, but many things most people knew I didn’t. He taught me… and ever since our last… meeting I can’t decide whether I want to thank or strangle him.”

A hundred questions fought their way to his tongue, but Flint swallowed them down. Silver had already revealed more than Flint had ever believed possible, after his initial reluctance to share any kind of information concerning his past. It was unwise to test his openness and prester him for more than he was willing to give.

He had obviously underestimated just how much Miguel had meant to Silver. It nourished his hatred against that spinless bastard. Faced with an inkling to their shared history, Flint’s incomprehension increased tenfold. “People change”, was all Flint could offer without starting a tirade about the true nature of friendship. Instead, he asked about a less dangerous topic or so he hoped. “Did you see the world or did we intercept with your plans?”

“Oh, no! I travelled for a few years – though with the least bit of sailing as possible – until I decided that I wanted to see the New World”, Silver replied, leaning his head back and closing his eyes as his smile grew bigger and bigger, when he remembered, “It was truly remarkable how different and yet so similar people are around the world. No matter the cultures and religions we all share so many dreams and fears. And the languages, the stories and how they tell them! I always stayed for a while to watch and learn what I could.”

It was illuminating to see him so full of wonder and open longing.

“You like learning.”

“Freaking love it.” Silver laughed and Flint was astonished by the open expression that was so different than his many masks that it stole his breath away.

Still smiling from ear to ear, Silver leaned close so he could whisper conspiratorial, “Just don’t tell DeGroot. I enjoy it too much to drive him nuts by repeating stupid questions.”

“The poor man will likely die of a heart attack because of us”, Flint said and joined him in his laughter. It felt good to enjoy each other’s company without the presence of immediate or recent loss and danger. No darkness looming over their heads.

Silver bumped slightly into his shoulder, “Possible, or he will be the one to kill us in the end.”

Flint still couldn’t believe that Silver had entrusted him with a part of his past and he had offered it on his own volition. Finally, the mystery was beginning to dissolve and what Flint saw intrigued him all the more. He could imagine Silver wandering over the market of new cities wide eyed and full of life, curious to experience everything life could offer.

“Why were you on the streets?” The question was out before he could stop his traitorous mouth and as he had predicted it brought an abrupt end to their honest moment.

“I fled from a hell that was even harder than the streets of London”, Silver replied, as his face closed off slightly again and shrugged like it was nothing. “It was alright. I survived on my own for nearly four years switching cities. You learn how to find shelter or food.”

Truthfully, that just raised more questions.

“Four years”, Flint repeated distressed at the thought at a young Silver begging for crumbs all alone in a brutal world.

Seeing his bleak expression, Silver snorted. “Don’t make such a face. You make me believe you were a spoilt brat.”

“Because I had a roof over my head?”, Flint countered in disbelieve and Silver’s lips twitched into a smile, “Yeah, spoilt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for this chapter include:  
> mostly misconceptions and miscommunication  
> mention of past rape  
> unhealthy coping mechanisms  
> a character is suffering from an infection


	5. Chains of the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I struggled this with chapter, but I hope it turned out ok ;)
> 
> Thank you for reading this story!
> 
> Kudos and comments are making my day!

* * * Flint * * *

Fuck, he should have followed him!

Who knew what trouble that little shit had found himself now? Those tattooed men didn’t look trustworthy in the least. Maybe Silver had bitten off more than he could chew? But surely, he wouldn’t have gone alone, if he wanted to engage with them in whatever capacity.

Who was he kidding? Of course, Silver’s stunt had something to do with those men. He shouldn’t had let him out of his sight.

Flint had been busy with the last preparations, before they sat sail, when he had registered how Silver had frozen, staring at two huge men with tattooed numbers on their faces. Flint had just ended his conversation with Teach, as the men vanished in the crowd at the harbor, Silver right on their tails. He had lost sight of Silver almost instantly.

He was close to pacing the peer, even closer to call a search party for their quartermaster.

And what a quartermaster he was. Leaving so abruptly during the last preparations of an important mission and without telling where he went. That was irresponsible. Silver was better than this, he was smarter than this.

Disappearing on his own in Tortuga, while a bounty was on his head? That is just stupid, as if these drunk heads of pirates had any honor to their brethren. Tortuga was the incarnation of Sodom and Gomorrah. Nothing but spinless fucks, who wouldn’t hesitate to turn in a fellow pirate to the British Navy.

“Captain, there is Silver.” Hearing DeGroot’s words, Flint turned around on his heels.

He would deny the relieved sigh that escaped him, when he saw Silver stumping his way up to him, for the rest of his life.

“Captain”, Silver greeted him and gestured to the side.

His relief immediately turned sour. Whatever had gotten into his quartermaster had to be serious, if his grim expression was anything to go by. Flint obliged him and followed him, so that they could speak undisturbed.

Silver came right to the point. “You need to sail without me. Once you’re done, you can pick me up here again.”

“What?” He couldn’t possibly be hearing this right. “You want to abandon the crew, while we are hunting our enemy?!”

Silver’s face showed nothing but fierce determination. His whole demeanor had changed. He was tense and there was an underlying fear in his eyes that had Flint worried.

“Why? What do you plan to do?”, Flint demanded to know, but Silver shook his head, “That is a personal issue I don’t wish to discuss, but if I’m correct with my assumptions, this could benefit the revolution immensely.”

Revolution my ass, Flint cursed under his breath. He had seen the need for revenge too often in the mirror to miss it now in Silver. Until today however, Flint would have sworn that Silver wouldn’t succumb to its call. This didn’t bode well. “How? And what happens, if you’re incorrect with your assumptions?”

“Maybe nothing, maybe I’m dead”, Silver shrugged nonchalant and Flint felt his anger boil.

“This is insane, Silver!”, Flint blurted out. “You cannot possibly expect me to leave you behind on such vague information, which could lead to your death. The revolution needs you.”

The crew needs you! Damn it I need you, Flint added in his mind. How could Silver do this to him?

Silver didn’t back down an inch. “I’m doing this for the revolution.”

Who do you want to convince about that? “You also said it is personal, too personal to tell me the reason for this.”

A small smirk played at his lips. “One doesn’t negate the other.”

Before Flint could lash out again in his frustration, Silver laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder, catching his gaze. “I’m loyal to you and the crew, to our cause, but this is important. I’m doing this with or without your support. So, you either come back to me, or you leave me here, whether or not I’ll join you again on my own is rather questionable.”

Flint’s ear rang with the ultimatum. There was no way the crew or he would abandon Silver here. “You don’t leave me much of a choice, do you? I expected more from you”, Flint sighed. “What should I tell the crew?”

“The truth, that I’m here on a secret mission to help the revolution.”

They would believe him. Their trusted Silver too much to even consider him abandoning them. Flint bit his lips and came to a decision. If he couldn’t dissuade Silver from his plan, he would ensure that Silver survived whatever ludicrous plan was festering in that pretty head of his. “I will choose a few men to help you with whatever you want to do.”

“No”, Silver objected with vehemence. “I will do this on my own. It has to be this way.”

“I thought we are partners, equals”, Flint countered. How could he demand from me to leave him to an unknown fate?

“We are”, Silver assured him. “I promise that I’ll explain everything once you are back.”

Silver stepped closer his voice nothing more than a whisper, “And I promise to be careful.”

Flint tried to think about a solid reason that persuade Silver to abandon his ominous mission, but running out of ideas. He recognized the look in Silver’s eye to know that he would not be deterred and that someone was likely to lose his head. Flint only hope it wouldn’t be Silver. A there was nothing more to be said, Flint nodded, cursing that stubborn head of Silver, as he watched him leave.

Once he was out of sight, Flint turned to their waiting ships. He marched towards the person he had elected to be Silver’s chaperon.

“Rackham!”

The man in question turned around with a stupid frown on his face. “Captain Rackham, it is a pleasure to see you this morning before our great hunt. Would you have a minute to talk, it is quite urgent”, the insolent shit started to mock him, but as he saw his expression, Rackham relented.

“What?”

Mindful for any listeners, he stepped closer. “I don’t know why, but my Quartermaster is on a one-man mission for the revolution and is staying here. You will stay here out of sight and follow him.”

“Will I now?”, Rackham questioned and Flint hissed, “Miss Bonny can command your ship, while we are hunting. I don’t need to tell you how important Silver is for our cause. You will make certain that he stays alive.”

Long John Silver was too important for their cause to let him come to harm and based on Rackham’s exasperate sigh he knew it. “What is he doing and why are you allowing it?”

Those were valent questions Flint wished he had answers for. “Will you do as I asked?”

Rackham snuffled, “Yeah.”

* * * Rackham * * *

Sitting on a casket at a corner, Jack could do nothing but wait for Silver to leave the fucking building. Whatever the man planned on doing was certainly not to sleep through the next three weeks. Though Jack could do with some shuteye himself. Part of him was curious what the conniving shit was so determined to do that he left his precious captain and crew sail without him, while the currently bored part just wanted to shake the quartermaster until he saw reason and kept on reigning Flint in.

Jack seriously didn’t want to picture how the council would function without Silver. He had this subtill way of directing Flint that puzzled Jack. At the same time, Silver was the only one able to openly speak against one of Flint’s more fantastic plans. Nothing however was so intriguing as to watch those two crackpots working together. It was both fascinating and disturbing. The way in which their minds seemed to merge, rendering spoken words meaningless. Jack had spent one meeting transfixed, observing their nonaudible conversation. At the end they had worked out a battle strategy with a few words and without any input from Jack what so ever.

The nerves of these two.

It irked him to be left out. But they were efficient, he had to give them that. It didn’t surprise him that the British believed them to be demons, forged of one lost soul. Only together they said, were the halves merged once again, two minds and two hearts becoming one. A wonderous tale.

Utter bullshit, of course.

But entertaining. At least more entertaining than to think about his degradation to nanny. Not that he would ever compare Silver to a child, especially out loud. Jack had once underestimated the man, but that had been a mistake and one he didn’t plan to ever make again. Now however, Jack found himself wondering why he had agreed to do it. He could have said no to Flint. He was a captain, goddamn it! Yet, considering Flint’s quick temper and violent outbursts as well as Silver’s importance to handle said outbursts and his role as figurehead of the resistance, he could not but agree.

But still, Jack thought miserably with arms crossed over his chest. Jack Rackham was not a nanny!

He had his own adventures to live and great deeds to achieve. If tales were to be written about him, he had to play his own grand role in the war. He wouldn’t allow his name to become a sidenote to the likes of Vane, Teach, Flint and Long John Silver.

Long John Silver, what a stupid nickname.

Suited for a man leaving on an ominous mission, while his brethren attacked the last warship of Roger’s fleet. What a king, Jack muttered. Selfish lying rat. Why did it had to be Silver, anyway? Sure, Billy liked him and the incident with Dufresne must have come in handy for a fabricated ghost story, but still…

Silver was not even a captain and had the least experience of them all. A talented storyteller didn’t make a king. Jack Rackham certainly wouldn’t kneel to the likes of him. Yet, Jack stood useless at a street corner to wait what miracle this would be king would work.

Of course, only the redcoats called him the pirate king. They had no king. They had a council as befitted for pirates.

Maybe Anne would have been the better pick for this, Jack mused. She had no problem with doing nothing and vanishing into the shadows. He on the other hand had hated to wear his most mundane wardrobe just to blend in. He was in fucking Tortuga with no time to join a game or two, eating a good meal or even taking a whore. Nothing for the good old Jack, nothing but waiting his life away.

He hated this. All of it.

The man he was waiting for almost passed Jack as he left the tavern, before he recognized the blue eyes and the missing leg.

What the actual… Jack did a double take and yep, it was Silver all right. A Silver without his blue coat, his pet leg or any adornments whatsoever. Instead, he looked abnormally normal with a plain shirt and a trimmed beard. If not for the crutch, he could vanish into the crowd completely.

More than a little confused, Jack stared after the figure, who was carrying two bags on his bag. Belated he followed him down to the port, where he spoke with a captain of a merchant vessel. Money was exchanged and Silver went down to the ship, while Jack cursed his existence.

Havenfort?

Jack couldn’t believe his ears. What could Silver want there? The island was a natural fortress belonging to England, prison included. Why would he risk going there, damn it!

Jack cursed and looked down at himself, suddenly thankful for his modest clothes. If he were to follow him, he couldn’t be recognized as pirate. At least, it explained Silver’s change in appearance. If he wasn’t so pissed at him, he would even go so far that the new look enhanced his features, but he was too angry for any such admittance.

While Silver boarded the small vessel, Jack had to actually hurry to rent a boat for himself. Going on the same boat was too risky, but it meant that he would lose track of him for a day. Hopefully, he would find him quickly. That is, if they both wouldn’t find themselves hung.

What rotten luck.

* * *

It wasn’t hard finding him.

The would-be king was everywhere it seems. Turning from one tavern, to shops and markets, to the port and brothels. Sometimes he worked for a meal, sometimes, he was telling a story, then he was helping for nothing but a few thanks. In between his random appearances however, Jack also noticed how money changed hands, how little fights broke out and how quickly rumors spread around the big town. The atmosphere was beginning to thickening within a week of their arrival and the citizens of Havenfort became more and more restless and frustrated with the British governor and his redcoats.

Silver didn’t shy away from making himself the pointe of a joke or ridicule just as long as the right people reacted in favor of him. Even some kicks and curses were met with the right amount of emotion to urge others to defend him. Within ten days, Silver had become something like a well-loved distant cousin for the better part of the town. He was welcomed to share a drink or a meal, but always insisted to earn his keep by small works, which just added to his popularity. To Jack’s surprise Silver began to sing in the tavern and told stories for the children on the street. Something that the redcoats found increasingly annoying and started to harass him, which was met with utter resentment from the people.

An uprising was soon to come and Jack could see the momentum grow in their favor, but he had yet to understand, how Silver meant to actually ignite the damn spark that would be the last straw before the people would rise.

You’re smart, damn it!, he cursed under his breath. You can figure it out.

Two days later, Jack had to admit that he couldn’t. It was obvious that Silver was endearing himself into the hearts of the most influential town’s people with the notable exception of the planter’s, but for what purpose? What was his endgame?

One thing however was for certain, he would never underestimate the little thief ever again.

A shudder went down his spine, as he bore witness to Silver’s transformation. Despite his unchangeable looks, Silver turned into whatever man his next victim was most likely to react benevolently to. His facial expression, his whole demeanor changed from one minute to the next to pleading, confident, demurred, happy or shy. Jack felt like he was the sole audience of a great play.

Then one day, Silver did something Jack did not understand in the slightest. While the public opinion was likely to turn against the British soon, Silver went into the damn monastery that belonged to a rich English Lord, who sponsored some kind of orphanage that was led by monks and weird men and women with tattooed numbers on their faces.

Hiding in the near forest, Jack waited… and waited. He waited for hours. He waited for a whole day. He waited through the night and the next morning. When the sun was already high up in the sky, Jack was close to storming into the damn estate.

He is alright. He is alright, Jack tried to calm his nerves. There is nothing to worry about. It’s a monastery, what could happen to him in there. Worst case scenario, Silver decided to become a monk and that was as unlikely as Jack becoming the next king of England. Only the monastery belonged to a Lord Chapman and included some kind of orphanage.

Wasn’t it weird that he never heard the damn children?

Certainly, they were bound to be outside at some point?

Something was strange about this place. Not only had he yet to see an actual child, but from time to time, rich folk entered the building and left it a few hours later. Something about it raised his hackles. The weird tattooed people, who worked around the estate with blank faces did nothing to ease his worries. They never spoke, let alone laughed. Their faces remained expressionless, while they worked in utter silence. Only the monks spoke. So far, he had counted three, but the Lord currently resided in London, as he had heard. Jack had heard rumors in the town about this weird estate. No one had ever adopted a child, at least not from the town’s people, but one man had sworn that he had seen one of the rich merchants leave with a child from the estate.

The rumors had piqued his interest, but sadly the townsfolk didn’t seem to know a great deal about it or of the Lord that was almost always back in England. While Jack wasn’t surprised that Silver would want to investigate the rumor, he wondered what was so important for him to remain for so long. That is to say, if he chose to remain there and wasn’t captured.

No, damn it!, Jack growled. Silver was fine. He had to be. His efforts couldn’t be for nothing.

Going up and down behind the trees, Jack nerves started to get to him. This was ridiculous, Jack muttered, he had other things to do than wait whether or not Silver had managed to be killed by some creepy monks. He was just short from running to the gate, when he saw Silver stepping out of a small side door on the garden that extended outside the estate. He could hardly make out his face, but the crutch was a dead giveaway. He said something to the tattooed man tending to the tomatoes, who stepped to him.

Jack held his breath, as Silver threw a knife at the man. Knife in the head, the man fell down to the ground and Jack run closer to the garden, but remained out of sight. Behind a bush, Jack observed how Silver went back through a small side door only to come back with a child on his back. With fast hops Silver crossed the garden and hurried down in the forest. Jack had to kneel down to hide from Silver’s view as the man made his way to the town.

“What the fuck?”, Jack whispered and followed him.

Silver didn’t stop until the had reached the edge of the town to switch unto the street. Suddenly his hops became slow and labored and Jack could hear him breath heavily even from the distance. The child on his back hardly moved and kept holding onto his neck.

The farther he went into town the more people spotted him. He hadn’t even reached the market before a great mass of people came running towards him. Silver let himself fall, quite dramatically and Jack heard the shocked gasps and worried questions as the people hurried towards him and the child. As inconspicuously as possible, Jack came nearer, until he could see what was happening from a corner.

The first thing he noticed was that the child looked pitiful, clothed in lumps and clearly underfed, not to mention a mix of bruises covering his thin frame. Even Silver showed some wounds. He had no shirt and beside some bruises Jack could see some wales on his back and on his arms.

“I was in the estate of Lord Chapman”, Silver said between heavy breaths and some poor attempts to stand up. “The evil resides in those walls!”

“What do you mean?”, asked the owner of the tavern Silver had frequented the most.

Silver laid a hand on the child’s back, who kept silent and tried to hide his face behind Silver’s arm. “The monks working for Lord Chapman are selling the children in their care to the highest bidder!”

Shocked expletives were heard across the market and more and more people gathered around Silver and the child, including some redcoats, who tried to break the group up. “Everyone, go back!”

Among the curses and angry looks they fought their way through the crowd. The lieutenant pointed to the child, “Where did you get the child, cripple?!”

“From the estate as you must know”, Silver spat in his face. “You know that Lord Chapman abuses and sales innocent children in his so called ‘orphanage’!”

“Silent!”, the man yelled and slapped Silver hard in the face. “You won’t besmirch a Lord with your lies!”

From there all hell broke loose.

The people were quick to side with Silver seeing the neglected child hiding at his side and the stupid officer, hitting a harmless invalid. Demands were spoken and threats screamed from the redcoats, but the people wanted answers. As they wanted to march to the estate, the lieutenant thought it a clever idea to try to stop them, which was seen as proof for his involvement.

“You conning, brilliant bastard”, Jack whispered astonished.

Within the next thirty minutes the crowd marched armed to the monastery, the redcoats as captives between them. The monks and their associates had already been trying to gather their belongings, which they were loading into a carriage. The missing child and the dead man had probably alerted them and now they wanted to flee, but the crowd had already seen them.

What followed was rather quick and efficient, as Silver the slimy bastard gave some instructions now and then and pointed them the way. The monks and their men were captured and taken into the building. When they came up, the monks, their men and the redcoats were apparently left down there, while the crowd were carrying children out into the open.

Jack cursed that he couldn’t have accompanied them into the building in fear that Silver would see him. What he witnessed however made his heart jump in excitement. Even more people had gathered and were furious that the corrupt British had allowed and supported such a vile business in their town. The people wanted blood and were planning on marching to the town hall, when a massive explosion rattled the island.

“The prison!”, Silver shouted and the people starred at him. “Your fellow brethren are escaping the prison of the redcoats. They will fight for the freedom of Havenfort!”

“What about the warship in harbor?”, a man asked and Silver smiled gesturing to the harbor, “It will burn.”

True to his words, a fire broke out in the below of the ship and suddenly Jack understood the exchanged money. Bribes. Silver didn’t just pay for rumors being spread around the island. He had must set all this in motion. The prison escape and the destruction of the warship.

Fucking brilliant bastard!

“The revolution has begun”, Silver said as the people watched in astonishment. “This island will be the first nation to be free of England’s tyranny. A land free of corruption and unjust taxes and laws. A land of free people united against a fiend that has exploited you. Beaten you and killed you for crimes against cruel Lords. They let you work so they could become richer with each passing day. They let you fight in their name, while they are sitting safe in their palaces.” He gestured to the mistreated children. “They abuse your children and sell them to amuse entitled rich bastards and preach civilization and morals. Punishing you for the slightest argument. But no more! Today we will take back our rights. We will take back our freedom!”

Jack could only stand there and listen to Silver’s speech. With each word he rallied them behind him. Their frustrations and anger boiling over, until they screamed their support. Hundreds of people were now hell-bend to dispel the British from their island.

* * *

It had begun. It was happening. An entire fucking island had upraised and was fighting the British together with freed pirates and slaves.

Jack had followed Silver to a back alley, where he had apparently stored his belongings under some caskets.

“I was wondering, when you would approach me”, Silver greeted him completely unsurprised by his presence, while he leaved his coat and pet-leg in the sack and took out some knifes and a pistol. Silver must have seen him. He knew that he was being followed. Smirking, Silver turned around, his cutlass already secured on his waist, “Care to join the revolution?”

“Fuck, yes!”, Jack cheered. “I knew you planned something with the damn prison. Hundreds of pirates and hundreds of angry town’s people. Not to mentions the hundreds of slaves on the plantation. You created an army.”

“Well, I thought the brave citizens could use some help”, Silver smirked and stood up, leaning at the tree with one arm. “The gun powder in the prison and the barracks were certainly useful.”

Silver stepped closer, holding a gun to him, “Now, all this revolution needs are Captain Jack Rackham and Long John Silver to reach its desired end.”

Jack had never grabbed a pistol as fast as in that moment.

* * * Flint * * *

“I can’t believe you let him go without knowing why.”

Before their first journey together, he would have never believed that she would repeat herself on anything. Being stuck on the Walrus without her other half however seemed to have put her on edge, which did nothing for his own nerves. “As you said.”

“Well, it’s stupid, isn’t it?”, she pressed and swung the remaining rum in her buttle. “Maybe he left.”

“He didn’t leave”, he insisted without looking up from the chart in front of him, yet he could still hear her shuffle on the chair.

“Yeah, you would know.”

“Rackham wouldn’t leave you”, he asked and regretted his words immediately. He could hardly compare their relationships. As expected, she scoffed, “That’s different. We’ve been together for years. You know your pet for a couple of months.”

He bristled hearing her call Silver a pet, but starting a fight with her served nothing. “I trust Silver”, Flint settled and was surprised how true his words were. Silver didn’t abandon him. He had multiple opportunities to do so, some of which would have even left him a rich man, but he hadn’t. He wouldn’t now.

“Miracles happen I suppose”, she muttered unimpressed and Flint couldn’t suppress the sigh that escaped his lips. “What?”

He looked up to see her cold stare eying him somewhat confused. Unperturbed from his questioning gaze she shrugged, “Never put you down for it, it’s all.”

“For what?”

“Trusting someone.”

It gave him pause. She couldn’t know how truly remarkable it was that he trusted Silver nor could she know how much it had cost him in the past to trust in someone. For her, he was the former rival to Vane. A capable captain and an enemy. She knew as much about his past as he of hers. A year ago, he would have laughed, if someone had implied so much at an alliance between him, Vane, Teach, Bonny and Rackham – he had laughed at Gates, when he had suggested joining forces with Vane.

Although it had only been a couple of months, it seemed like years. Now he could hardly imagine captaining a ship without Silver by his side. The last two weeks had been strange to say the least. Bonny had done her part in replacing Rackham and joined his crew, after their successful hunt, leaving her ship to be sailed by its shipmaster back with Teach to Maroon island.

As hard as it was to admit, he had missed Silver, their comradery, the closeness that he had lacked after Miranda’s death.

None of which he could voice to her. There was nothing that bound them other than their concern about their partners. “I thought Rackham was the talkative of you two.”

That put a smirk to her face. “Well, if he was here, you would have threatened to strangle him by now.”

“True enough”, Flint allowed and leaned back. That man had the tendency to test his patience the moment he opened his damn mouth. He had his use of course, but that didn’t make his endless monologues more bearable. The man yearned for glory, which as foreign to Flint as greed. He had never been the typical pirate and neither was Silver.

“Rackham will be fine”, he said. They are both fine.

“I know”, she said and took another big gulp from the bottle.

Flint had no illusions what hell she would raise, if Rackham had been hurt or killed by his degree. He respected her loyalty as much as her cunning way of fighting. Miranda had always been fascinated by Anne Bonny. He remembered how he had first told her about the fierce shadow of Rackham and pressed him for every detail of her story. A woman, who had earned her place among the most feared pirates in the Caribbean must have a story worth hearing. He had an inkling it was a sad story, like all of their stories were, but even years later, he knew next to nothing about her.

He felt his lips curl up as he realized how sentimental he had become as of late. When had he started to care for others again, to be interested in their lives without any ulterior motive? At some point his gaze had turned outwards instead of lingering back to far away memories, and it brought allies in his life. He was no longer alone in this endeavor. After a decade of his lone crusade, Flint was once more part of something that was bigger than him and his distant dream of a better future. A future that had now a real chance to become true.

A future that was possible because Silver had opened a door for him.

Bastard, he thought in slight amusement. Who would have thought that of all people a petty thief would be his light in the dark? Everything seemed possible with Silver. It inebriated and scared him equally, but it also sparked a longing for even more.

They hadn’t spoken about their misfortunate physical relationship as neither wanted to admit the feelings laying behind their actions, he supposed. There was too much potential for their ruin. Neither of them could be distracted from their tasks, there was too much at stake. It was better this way, that was at least what Flint tried to tell himself, when he laid awake at night imagining bronze-colored skin under his hands.

The sound of Silver’s gasps and moans were still haunting him at night, filling the darkness with life. Silver had been so alive and open, devoting himself completely to every touch and kiss. Even Flint’s dreams were full of those curious blue eyes that had pierced him with sheer wanton and need. They had needed each other. Flint was man enough to accept that, he should never had indulged in that need. No matter how much he desired Silver, his heart was already too heavy from the ghosts of his lovers. Adding more strain would certainly break it beyond repair and the mere thought frightened Flint. There were, of course, other matters to take into account, like the risk to their stations. There was no way of telling how a relationship between them would affect their men or their legends. Would it be the weapon England could use to end them?

Flint couldn’t take the chance. Thomas and Miranda would be disappointed in him, but it must be. Even if Flint was still capable to open his heart to Silver, the door to love had to stay closed for the sake of the war.

Startled by the sound of a bottle being put down with more effort than necessary, Flint woke from his daydream and saw Bonny standing up.

“Hope you’re right.”

She left shortly after and Flint remained alone in his cabin, until they had reached Tortuga. In a few hours they would arrive, as Teach was returning to the Maroon’s. Scott should be back from his negotiations with the Maroons of Jamaica as well. Vane however was worried about Rackham and had insisted to accompany Flint.

Flint didn’t want to imagine the chaos, if one of them had been killed.

* * *

Vane was already waiting at the peer for Miss Bonny and Flint, but there was no sign of Silver or Rackham, which already set his nerves on edge.

Woe betides that little shit, if he had gotten into more than he can chew!

His beginning anxiousness however was cut short by a man in a neat coat and bald head, who advanced towards them. The man was in his thirties and smiled politely, when he addressed him. “Captain Flint, I am Captain Fraser. It is an honor to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about your endeavors.”

“As I have of yours, Captain Fraser”, Flint answered in kind and shook the man’s hand. He then gestured to his companions. “If I may introduce you to Miss Anne Bonny and Captain Charles Vane.”

Fraser nodded his head in greeting and appraised them all with open curiosity but without fear. From what Flint had heard about the man, he was one of the more rational pirates and didn’t regale in unnecessary bloodshed. Why he would introduce himself now, Flint couldn’t say.

Fraser luckily came right to the point. “I’m here to join the alliance.”

“Why do you want join us? Last I heard the pirates of Tortuga didn’t fancy to fight alongside their brothers”, Vane asked with blatant suspicion, before Flint could.

The sudden interest in their crusade seemed strange, but there was no doubt that he would be an asset.

Fraser wasn’t put off by the question and chuckled, “Because of your Quartermaster, Captain Flint. He made a compelling argument and three other Captains agreed with me. Not to mention the people of New Haven.”

“New Haven?”, Flint asked incredulous to what Silver had to do with any of this.

“Formerly known as Havenfort. Your Quartermaster has started a revolution that expelled the English from the island and now it will serve as the focal point of the Great Revolution”, Fraser explained with open amusement upon seeing their faces.

Flint stared at him for once completely perplexed. Could this be true? It sounded impossible. Havenfort had always been a thorn in every pirate’s side. A dangerous threat placed in the heart of the Caribbean.

“Are you saying that Havenfort is now nationless?”, Anne Bonny checked doubtfully and Fraser shook his head slightly.

“Not quite. Mr. Silver and Mr. Rackham have formulated a first draft of our new constitution. We are the beginning of a new nation. One of free men and women of all ethnicities and religion, who will serve no king but elected representatives.” He took two letters out of his coat and handed one to Flint. “Mr. Silver also gave me this as proof of my words and Mr. Rackham gave me this for Miss. Bonny.”

Flint’s head was spinning as he heard about what could only be a miracle, if it was true.

“I will return to New Haven in a few hours, if you want to join. I know that Mr. Silver and Mr. Rackham are looking forward to be reunited with their crews. Especially Mr. Rackham”, Fraser added and chuckled. “He seems anxious to tell you about it.”

Flint was to shocked to reply with words, so he nodded and Fraser left them to read his so-called proof.

Quickly Flint opened the letter to look at Silver’s neat handwriting and hurried through the lines.

“And? Is it true?”, Vane asked impatient, as Bonny and he were reading.

“Seems so“, Bonny said thunderstruck and Flint nodded still trying to process the news.

The endless possibilities were spiraling in his head. “Havenfort is a natural fortress. Its high cliffs make it easy to defend and the land itself is verdant and can be further cultivated than the small part that currently is used for farming. The island is large enough to hold thousands of people for years even without trait. If this is true, we can indeed use it as a focal point of a revolution among the islands around it, which are full of slave plantations.”

“Not to mention the addition of ships and men we acquired. We would have an armada on our hands and the men to sail them”, Anne Bonny said in awe, which was certainly a first.

* * * Flint * * *

The English flags on the outpost had been missing, switched with black ones and now a black flag waved proudly in the wind above the prison. Even the English ships in the harbor had set the black. There was no sign of redcoats, instead some men had been hung on display at the narrow passage into the harbor between the massive escarpments. 

Anne Bonny stepped next to him, eyeing the hanged men with a flicker of hope. “Do you think it could be true?”

“Something happened here. I can only hope what Captain Fraser said is true”, he answered and let his gaze wander over the clear signs of a fight that was visible on the buildings, some of the ships and the prison.

Captain Fraser had already sailed into the bay, while Vane was waiting behind the _Walrus_.

“Captain”, the watch cried and gestured to the passage before the _Walrus_. “Captain there, it’s Silver! He is coming to us in a boat!”

At once, Flint looked down and praised a deity he no longer believed in. The boat coming up behind one of the escarpments was carrying Silver. Two men were rowing him to the _Walrus_ as it seems and Flint couldn’t make out any weapons pointed at him or shackles. He swiftly scanned the ships in the harbor and the rocks to ascertain that no snippers were waiting, but he couldn’t see anyone.

“Where is Jack?”, Anne Bonny hissed distressed and Flint tried to calm her, “I’m sure he is fine.”

All while Silver was taken to the _Walrus_ , where he started to climb up. Quickly flint held out a hand to help him over the railing and dragged him up. 

There, Silver stood, wearing nothing but a simple pair of trousers, a shirt and a worn vest. His long hair rested in a messy bun, while some single strains of his dark curls were gently framing his forehead and ears. The beard was neatly trimmed and he was without any adornment except a bright smile.

He looked like the embodiment of an innocent life-weary civilian.

Upon seeing their stunned faces to his appearance Silver laughed open and warmly, “I couldn’t look like a pirate, when I wanted to succeed. Don’t worry, soon I’ll look like an old salt again.“

Relieved chuckles echoed over the deck and Silver addressed Flint, “I’m glad to see the _Walrus’_ crew alive and well. I hope your endeavor was a success.”

“Nothing that could be compared to your achievement as I heard”, Flint countered and couldn’t take his eyes off his quartermaster. Silver looked radiant. His blue eyes shining with almost the same intensity as when they had met. It took Flint’s breath away and gave him hope that the report wasn’t a trap. After all, why would Silver play along like this in this manner?

“Is it true?”, DeGroot asked instead of him and Silver nodded, but Anne interrupted, “Fuck that, where is Jack?”

“The guard that was left behind to watch over me?”, Silver asked in a mocking tone and turned to the nervous woman. “Doing what he does best – talking politics and painting glamorous images of our bright future.”

Raising his voice Silver addressed once more the whole crew, “New Haven is now a free island with its own constitution – although we are still working out the kinks. The council is already waiting for Captain Flint and Vane.”

Astonished whispers and joyful hurrahs filled the deck and carried far over the sea as they heard Silver’s words. Anne Bonny sighed, obviously relived that Jack was save, while some men clapped Silver shortly on his shoulder, even DeGroot smiled proudly at him.

Flint on the other hand couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Although he trusted Silver, it was hard to imagine. “How did you do this?”

The shouting and discussions hushed and all awaited a grand tale from their beloved storyteller, but Silver only gave a vague response instead of an epic tale.

“Me?”, Silver asked and his lips twitched into a smirk. “I did hardly anything, but tell the right tale at the right time. I just used the distrust against the redcoats and endeared myself enough within the community so that I could ignite the spark that called the people to arms against the immoral suppressors. Some well-placed barrels of gun powder were helpful as well.”

“You told a tale?”, Flint mused only half amused and Silver nodded, “Yes and a glorious tale is waiting to be told by you, if you are up to the task, Captain.”

Flint huffed still overwhelmed. “You managed to free one of the best defended islands?”

“Yeah, well. I had a little help from the local population, the imprisoned pirates as well as the slaves we freed once the city was in our hands.” Silver said it so nonchalant like he hadn’t just worked a fucking miracle. Faced with Flint’s silence Silver added, “It is true, Captain. They are waiting for you and they are ready to fight for the freedom of others.”

There were no words that could describe his gratitude and so he did what he just now realized he had never done before – he took the little shit into a short but fierce embrace. He heard some gasps around him and felt Silver startle, before returning the hug.

“How many goddamn doors do you plan to open for me, you bastard?”, Flint asked incredulous and released Silver from his arms.

Silver chuckled and a wide smile brightened his features, as he held out his hands.

Without hesitation Flint took it.

“Welcome to New Haven, Captain Flint.”

* * *

Never had he thought a day like this could be anything but a dream.

An entire army of pirates sworn to him and the revelation. People greeting him with open caution, willing to let the past rest in favor of a free future. An island without one British official or soldier, but filled with fighters and dreamers, who dared to believe in him and his cause – Thomas cause.

Much had still to be done. It would take months to fully reorganize the island and the alliance. They had to be quick and spread the word, before England could recognize them as a true threat.

Now however, Flint had only one goal in mind, one path he needed to see to its fruition. His heart hammered in his chest with each hurried step. The time for doubts and denial was over. After today, Flint was intoxicated with euphory and his reasons could go fuck themselves. Tonight, he would be brave and open a door, he had closed.

One last step and Flint was inside his cabin. A room that had been both his safe space and his cage. Maybe tonight, the room would be witness to a new beginning.

Upon his arrival, Silver turned around from his spot at the windowsill. He was shirtless and Flint could see the lashes on his arms. They would need to talk, but that had to wait.

Flint bolted the door.

Silver slowly walked to Flint’s desk with his crutch, his eyes never leaving Flint’s. Without any hurry or any sign of shame Silver leaned the crutch at the desk, before he sat down on it, as though he belonged there, that notorious smirk on his mouth.

No word was spoken.

They were past words now.

At least for a moment, a moment that was long overdue, if Flint was honest and he passed the little distance between them, coming to stand in front of the man, who had once more proven to be his equal, if not his match.

God, Flint wanted… he wanted Silver.

Yet, he did not move to kiss him or went to his knees, as he so desperately longed to do. Flint had hurt Silver with his selfish actions. Anything that could happen between them had to come from Silver. It was his decision and Flint hoped that his quartermaster would once more knew what Flint needed… and he hoped that Silver would need him too.

“Don’t be afraid”, Silver said and his right hand came to rest gently on his cheek. “I’m right here, James.”

“I know”, James exhaled and breathed for air like he was coming to the surface from the darkness that had him in its grip. The clear blue of Silver’s eyes threatened to drown Flint again. This time however Flint was adamant for Silver to swallow him whole. His hand glided over Silver’s lips up to his cheekbones and came to rest at the side of his face. “I see you.”

Silver’s eyes widened and something seemed to break free in him, as Flint found himself kissed with fervor. Flint responded in kind and pressed impossibly closer. His hands found their way into those luscious curls and he tugged them back to deepen the kiss further.

If there was a God, he had to be responsible for these curls.

Silver moaned into the kiss and unfastened Flint’s belt. Reluctant to be parted with those enticing locks, Flint hurried out of his coat and his shirt, before he took hold of Silver’s face again.

Their tongues met in a deep kiss and battled for dominance, tasting the other and loosening themselves in shared gasps and moans. Flint was reminded of their first time at the beach and felt the same insatiable hunger for more rise inside him. He needed Silver closer, he needed to taste every inch of that ridiculous smooth skin.

Enamored in his desire, Flint pulled Silver up in his arms and sat him down on the desk. Going on his knee, Flint took off Silver’s boots and pulled down his trousers, careful not to hurt his stump. Overcome by his need to taste Silver, he kissed his way up his thighs, while Silver watched him with wide eyes.

Despite everything there was still some uncertainty in Silver’s eyes and that could not be. Ignoring the twitch of Silver’s hands, as he took gently hold of his stump, Flint placed kiss after kiss on the scarred skin.

Silver gasped in astonishment and caressed Flint’s cheek. His eyes were full of wonder and his voice vibrating with lust, “Take me to bed.”

Recognizing the momentum of the offer Silver gifted him, Flint placed his hands on Silver’s butt and pulled him up against him, while Silver wrapped his legs around his waist. Slowly without ever losing his gaze, Flint carried Silver to the bed and laid him down.

Spurred on by the trust in Silver’s eye, Flint got rid of his remaining clothes in record time and covered the body of his partner with his own. They both groaned, when their bodies aligned and they were finally skin on skin.

Damn it, this felt good, Flint thought as he inhaled Silver’s scent and felt his warm body molding so perfectly with his.

Silver caressed Flint’s scalp, rubbing the little hairs on it. For the first time Flint missed his hair and considered regrowing it. It would be worth it just for Silver to tug it. Thankfully, Silver’s great mane was still as ravenous as ever and Flint played with it, curling it around his fingers. There initial hastiness deflating, as both were mesmerized by the reverence reflected in each other’s eyes.

Ever the little shit, Silver rolled his hips up into Flint’s pelvis making him moan aloud. A sound that was swiftly swallowed by Silver’s lips. It ignited the fire in him anew. With a growl Flint captured those plush lips in a searing kiss, nipping at the bottom lip and licking into Silver’s mouth. Silver answered in kind and sucked at Flint’s lip, before he traced the vein on Flint’s neck with his tongue. A shudder went through Flint’s body and he thrusted down, making Silver groan into his collarbone.

“Stop teasing me and get inside of me”, Silver said huskily in his ear, before he continued to ravish Flint’s mouth.

“Need”, Flint gasped and finally broke the kiss. “I need to get the oil.”

“Then move your fine ass, Captain”, Silver smirked and squeezed the bottom in question.

Flint huffed and stood up to get the oil from his desk. When he went back to the bed, Flint halted in his steps, before he could lay down again. Taking in the picture before him. Silver was magnificent. The last months had filled Silver out again. There was no sign of his rips anymore, instead he had regained his hard muscles, which seemed to dance under his skin with every movement. His skin was no longer the sickly tone from the doldrums but shined bronze once more covered now this a film of sweat. His lovely face was framed by his wild locks and a neatly trimmed beard that just enhanced his features. But most of all, Flint was enchanted by the deep blue of his eyes. He had almost forgotten their beautiful color, as they were gazing at him full of mischief and desire – and all this was his for the taking.

He was abruptly awoken from his trance, as Silver pulled his face back down to Silver, catching his gaze. “I swear to God, James. If you leave me hanging now, I will start a mutiny”, he growled.

“Justifiable”, Flint chuckled, tracing his fingers over the plane of Silver’s chest. “But unnecessary. I’m just enjoying the view and the only way I’ll stop is, if you ask me to.”

Silver’s only answer was to kiss him hard, dragging Flint down on top of him again.

* * *

“I can hear you thinking.”

“Can you hear what I’m thinking?”, Flint chuckled and regarded the mop of hair that was spread over his chest.

“Contrary to popular believe I’aint psychic, but I can take an educated guess”, those black curls mumbled into his skin, before Silver deigned it necessary to lift his head up and to rest his chin instead over Flint’s heart. “At the moment I’d say there are three possible lines of thought that keep you from sleeping.” Silver’s finger traced over Flint’s right nipple as though he was in fact talking to the quickly hardening teat.

“First, you’re fretting about how this could influence your war and what could happen, if people knew about it. Secondly, you’re scared to let someone else near you, after the loss of Miranda and Thomas and thirdly”, Silver kissed his way up to Flint’s lips. “You’re imagining how you could make this morning as unforgettable as last night and only one of these considerations is acceptable to me. Do you want to guess which one?”

“I think I can feel the answer”, Flint teased and pressed closer to the half hard cock currently resting next to his hip.

Silver snorted and kissed him deeply but without any hurry.

“In all honesty”, said Silver, as they broke the kiss and hold his gaze. “Do you regret this?”

“No”, Flint said without hesitation and decided to be as honest as he wanted Silver to be with him. “And that is partly what scares me the most.”

It was almost scarry how damn right it felt to wake up next to Silver. Last night had been amazing and Flint didn’t regret it for a second. It shouldn’t surprise him. Silver had successfully integrated himself into every facet of Flint’s life, adapting new roles with ease. Why should this be any different? Yet, there was so much still unaddressed between them. The liberation of Havenfort being the latest. So many aspects of Silver’s past were still a mystery to him and Flint knew that every secret between them could lead to their separation. All his reasons for not taking this last step were still relevant and sooner or later they would need to face them, but they needed to talk first. They needed to know where they stood, before anyone could use doubts between them against each other.

Silver nodded thoughtfully, acknowledging Flint’s honesty and fear. He didn’t seem angry about the admission, only abrasive about what this could mean for their future. “Enough to abstain from this?”

“No”, Flint said and brushed a strain of Silver’s hair behind his ear. “But that isn’t just my decision.”

“True”, Silver agreed with a smirk. There was relief in his voice, but also excitement. Provocatively slow, Silver stretched his body over Flint’s and looked at him with an open challenge. “But I was always the one between the two of us, who made the best out of any situation.”

A throaty moan escaped Flint, as Silver rolled his hips down, rubbing against his cock, which twitched in delight. “At least someone agrees with me”, Silver chuckled and licked his lips.

Well, Flint never said he was a saint and as pirate, he couldn’t dismiss a direct challenge.

* * *

It was truly amazing what the council had already accomplished under Rackham’s and Silver’s guidance, but there was still so much do. Flint estimated that it would take months before the government was reorganized, institutions and laws established, the buildings repaired and further fields added to accommodate the freed slaves and pirates.

Vane had left to inform the Maroons and Teach of the new developments, while Flint had worked with Captain Archer to repair the towns defenses and to install some new ones. His first impression of Captain Archer had luckily proven correct and he could appreciate the calm pragmatism of the man, which was a rarity among pirates. Together they organized their new fleet and planed their next hunts.

Rackham and Silver on the other hand continued to support the council and to write a new constitution for their new nation, which was a job Flint didn’t envy. Silver had already given Vane a letter for the Scott’s asking for help as they had experience in organizing a community from scratch.

Flint walked out of the town’s hall and breathed in all the euphoria that still lingered in the air.

Despite the mountain of issues that needed solving, Flint felt elated. The day had passed like a dream and Flint had found himself wondering whether he would in fact wake up any minute. After all those years of hardship and sacrifice, Thomas’ dream was within reach. Reality had even surpassed their goals and offered a way to establish a free nation that would honor every human’s rights.

A smile was constantly playing around his lips, when he thought about the endless possibilities Silver’s initiative had put on the table. Long John Silver had become more than a gruesome ghost of vengeance, he had become a savior and Flint couldn’t believe that he had held this man in his arms last night.

He had to chuckle, when he remembered the careful glances from Rackham during the council meeting this morning, as if he had suspected an act of defiance born from jealousy. What an absurd assumption, Flint thought, as he wandered down to the harbor. In contrast to Rackham Flint hadn’t become a pirate because he wanted to make a name for himself – Flint still hated his legacy as Captain Flint – but to achieve a goal and now, thanks to Silver, he might actually succeed. It didn’t matter to him, how this was achieved and by whom, and after all, he was still in charge of their military strategy. So, he didn’t need to feel left out. In a matter of speaking New Haven was run similar to the _Walrus_ in that he and Silver shared the authority and the work according to their abilities.

“Isn’t it dreadful? For all these years we never knew what was happening in that horrific place and to think that monks had done the dirty work for that bastard of a Lord? Unbelievable. Children enslaved to amuse the rich…”

Flint halted in his steps, as heard the words. Taking a turn to the left, Flint followed the voices to two women, who were washing clothes in a basin.

“Yes, these poor lambs. Caged and enslaved like animals! There is hardly any skin on them! All are sick and so easily frightened, and who can blame them? To suffer so much abuse in such a tender age... Some of them have been there since they were babies. Babies! They know nothing of the world”, said an elderly woman wrinkling her nose.

The other nodded and wrung out a shirt. “It is good that Silver and the council had vowed to take care of them. Did you hear that such a place is supposed to exist in London as well? The nerve of these people to call it an orphanage!”

The monastery, Flint thought, finally connecting the dots. He had heard that Silver had saved some poorly treated orphans from some monks, who sold them for the benefit of some English Lord. Somehow that aspect of the revolt had gotten lost in the shuffle. There had been too many issues that had needed to be addressed for Flint to give the short summary of the events much thought and then he had been so overwhelmed and full of energy that he had sought out Silver.

God, Silver…

It all made sense now. The tattooed men had been working for the monks and Silver had seen them in Tortuga, meaning that Silver had known of that monastery beforehand. That was why he had followed them here and that must have been the reason for him to instigate the rebellion in the first place.

His blood ran cold and Flint cursed his slow uptake. It wasn’t hard to imagine why Silver would know about Lord Chapman’s enterprise or why he had taken such risks to bring it to an end. Flint huffed bewildered, when he remembered how Silver had spoken about Solomon Little and his going-ons in the orphanage. He had been sure that it had been a lie and most of it probably had been, but…

Flint turned toward the inn, in which he and Silver had been offered to stay tonight. He needed to speak with Silver.

He hurried through the town, his mind racing with questions and realizations that were suffocating him enough that he was panting.

“Flint!”

God, no! Not Rackham, Flint bristled and kept going, but the little rat jogged up to him.

“Not yet, Rackham. I need to speak with my Quartermaster”, he growled and pushed the notorious nag aside.

“Captain Flint”, Rackham stopped him by grabbing his arm. “I can guess what rattles you. I expected it and I meant to talk with you about, but there had been no time yet. There is something you need to see.”

It was the urgency in Rackham’s voice that convinced him. He had an idea, what Rackham wanted him to see and Flint followed him to the monastery.

Rackham led him through a small side door and down a spiral staircase. A feeling of dread shuddered through Flint’s body and his hands balled into fists, when they reached the bottom of it. A big room with a stage and several small rooms adjoining seemed out of place, as were the tables and beds placed all-around. Bile rose in his throat, as he realized what these rooms had been used for. Images of children entertaining a mob of rich bastards, reducing them to toys and pretty dolls to play with.

Before his inner eye faces of all the Lords Flint had met in his Navy time flashed up and the constant simmer of his wrath that had started to abate since he had set foot on New Haven threatened to overwhelm him. He knew way too many Lord and Ladies and rich merchants, who would have partaken in these horrific crimes, maybe they even had.

The sudden urge to tear these walls down with his bare hands were making him tremble in his attempt to contain the blind rage, when something touched him and Flint saw down to a hand that rested on his arm. Stirred from his visions of murder and bloodshed, Flint followed Rackham, who nodded towards an iron-reinforced door behind a red curtain. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Flint braced himself for what was waiting behind the tunnel.

Slowly Flint walked into the room. Each of his footsteps echoing with a thumb through the rows of now empty cages like a drum. His heart beat with the ferocity of the echoes, starring at the mere blankets that were supposed to protect the children from the bitter cold of this dungeon, the small bowls that were laying around without cutlery like you would feed a dog.

Animals, Flint thought belatedly and grinded his teeth that his jaw hurt. They treated them like animals and deprived them from any kind of dignity.

He heard Rackham stepping closer, but Flint gaze was stuck on the pile of dirty clothes that lay sticking horribly on the ground, while there were basins and cupboards with fancy dresses and silly costumes in a corner.

“The owner of the monastery is a Lord Chapman, who lives in England. The monks said that there is another place like this in London likewise covered as orphanage. I went through the records of brother Augustus, who ran this shithole.” Rackham released a heavy breath. “It’s bad. I mean, we both have seen some shit, but this…”

This was horrendous.

“Some of the children were caught from the streets, others were sold by their parents. People, who couldn’t afford another mouth to feed or just needed the money, children born out of wedlock... The children were trained as servants, as entertainer and even…”, Rackham swallowed and sighed. “If you had the money you could rent them or buy them. Some of the docile one’s, usually those who had been here since they were babies, cared for the infants and trained them according to abilities. The ‘difficult’ children or the sick were offered for a special ‘amusement’.”

Memories of Silver refusing help, of his almost insane persistence of being fine, when an infection was running through his body pressed Flint’s last breath out of him. Taking in a shuddering breath, Flint almost missed Rackham’s last words.

“They were bought to be killed. Most of them died, before they were bought and I don’t think those bought had it better.”

Flint bristled and scoffed. None of these children had a chance of surviving, let alone of finding a life worth living. They had been doomed from the moment they had been sold.

“Tell me everything you saw”, Flint demanded, finally turning to him. “Everything, you haven’t told the others.”

Rackham had apparently expected his request and began to talk. For once the man’s preference for speaking of the smallest details was useful and Flint listened to every word, while the knuckles of his fists turned white.

At last, Rackham fell silent and Flint stormed out of the fucking building.

“Get canons up here and destroy it. It has no place in our midst”, Flint commanded his voice tight with tension.

Rackham nodded solemnly, for once no word of objection left his mouth. “Will do.”

He stepped closer, but gave Flint the needed space to pace back and forth.

“There was no way of Silver knowing what he would find here simply by looking at a tattooed man, if he had not known the meaning of these tattoos beforehand”, Rackham offered carefully, after a few minutes. Flint didn’t argue the point and Rackham stepped in his way, his voice turning quieter. “I won’t say a thing, but some might come to a similar conclusion.”

Flint nodded thinking the same. They had to stifle such rumors in the bud. “We have to spread the tale in our favor. Highlighting the people’s resistance against corruption and immoral acts as well as the impossible task of freeing a whole island from the British instigated by one man. I’m sure you think of a suitable story worth telling.”

“I see to it. I will likewise get word to Billy, so that he can use our version of the tale in Nassau”, Rackham added and went to go.

“Captain Rackham”, Flint called him back and Rackham turned around. He raised a brow in question, waiting for another order. Instead, Flint straightened and nodded in his direction. “Thank you.”

* * *

His way back seemed strangely long and yet shorter like time itself bend and stretched as though it could shake off the darkness it had been stained with. Flint thought back on that day on the hill, his disappointment of not being trusted by Silver to be taken in his confidence. He remembered how Silver had first tried to deflect and then his outright refusal. The dread in his eyes, when Silver asked whether Flint could accept him without knowing, where he came from. The fear of rejection so clear in his voice.

Every conversation and every action had gained a new undertone for Flint, shedding a new light on his partner and Flint understood. He finally understood, why Silver couldn’t bear for people to know. Why Silver would push himself to exhaustion before being seen as weak.

Hadn’t James himself suffered from being seen through the lens of the legend he had created around Captain Flint? That man was part of who he was now, but he was not all James was and yet, he was the monster parents told their children about, because terror was the most tangible of all emotions and the easiest to use against someone. Being reduced to the darkest part of yourself was one of the cruelest forms of torture, James could imagine. How could Silver had expected to be seen as anything but an abused child sold into slavery?

Someone to be pitied, a fragile being devout of any other feature. Did Silver see himself as such? The thought was ridiculous. Silver was so much more.

But all to often, people tended to see in themselves only what they feared to be seen as.

He wouldn’t make that mistake. Silver was a strong creative and smart person, who deserved to be acknowledged for it and James had to show Silver that he saw him as more than just the fragment of his past.

Passing through the roads Flint knew that he could not demand his trust and that he was probably too emotional to have this kind of conversation with Silver. It would be better to wait until he had sorted his head and calmed down. The urge to see Silver however remained and so Flint settled to seek him out.

As he was entering the inn, Flint was massaging his hands in hope of getting the tension out of his body. Silver was way too quick in noticing any of Flint’s mood shifts and right now he didn’t want to make the impression that he was here to berate him or showering him with platitudes of how sorry he was for what happened to Silver. He needed to speak with Silver, but he had to be careful of how to approach the subject.

Knocking at the door of Silver’s room, he entered and stopped almost immediately. “My apologies, I didn’t know you were bathing.”

“It’s alright”, Silver laughed and winked him in. “They had one for their guests and offered it to me. I just couldn’t resist.”

His enjoyment of this treat was so apparent that Flint couldn’t’ help but smile seeing Silver soaking in the hot water and he took a seat next to a table that was standing close to the bathtub.

“This is your first time in an actual bathtub”, Flint said, when a thought struck him and Silver hummed, “Yes, I always wanted to try one.”

“Is it as good as you imagined?”

“Better”, Silver sighed in full contentment. “This is the type of water I could get used to.” A mischievous spark flashed in his eyes and he stretched sinfully in provocative manner. “Would you like to join me?”

Flint huffed and he was tempted to push his worries aside, but the memories of that dungeon… these cages… They were too fresh to discard and so he remained seated.

Silver looked down a knowing half-smile on his lips. “There is something on your mind.”

It wasn’t a question neither were Flint’s next words.

“You did not come here to assure us a safe haven. The revolution of these people was just the justification for your endeavor.”

“Captain”, Silver started, but Flint cut him off, “I’m not angry with you. I understand better than most how tempting revenge can be and what one is prepared to do to install justice on one’s enemies.”

“What do you know about my enemies?”, Silver asked and a shadow fell onto his face, as though he just now realized what exactly could have let Flint to come here.

He hated to put the seed of fear in Silver’s eyes, but they both needed to acknowledge the fact that Flint knew at least partially now what had driven Silver to Havenfort. “I listened to the stories about the orphanage. I went there and I realized that all the adult helpers had a tattoo on their face. You saw them in Tortuga and found out, where they came from, then you decided to come here.”

Silver neither screamed at him nor jumped out of the bathtub to run away, as Flint had half-expected. Instead, he held his gaze and seemed more thoughtful than shocked. He must have assumed that Flint would confront him about this sooner or later. After a few minutes, Silver snorted and looked away. “People claim we share one mind, did you know that?”

“People say a lot about us and I pay them no mind, but yes. I heard”, Flint offered thinking back on some of the nonsense he had overheard in taverns. “It’s just not true.”

“Isn’t it? We are pretty good at reading the other and in predicting what the other might need from the other”, Silver dissented and turned back to him.

There had been a time, when Flint had cursed Silver’s perceptiveness fearing what that little shit might discover. His bright eyes always assessing without ever losing their innocence somehow. It was his spiel, Flint knew. It covered a pain that drove Silver to hide and still… being aware of its cause, Flint was taken by the magnitude of sheer-will it must demand from Silver to see an out, when no one else did. Going on, looking for something better no matter how hopeless a situation seemed to be.

But he feared that Silver might have fallen for his own trick, convincing even himself of being a no one from nowhere. It could lead him to a dangerous place and it ushered Flint to press further. “True, yet only now I got a glimpse into your mind, an answer as to why you act as you do.”

“I thought you didn’t need my story to trust me”, Silver said, his voice growing thicker with barely concealed frustration that in truth was nothing more than proof of his fear for rejection. “Why do you need me to spell it out for you? You’re smart enough to guess the main points of that part in my past.”

“What I need”, Flint stressed and kept is voice as gentle as possible. “Is for you to understand that there is no shame between us, and that should you ever want to, or need to speak about it, be certain that I’ll listen.”

With this promise Flint rose and stood next to the tub. He gently laid a kiss upon the velvet locks. “I do trust you. Never doubt that.”

He went to leave.

“Captain”, Silver called him back, before Flint could reach the door and Flint turned his head to hear the whispered admission of their openness, they were only now beginning to discover, “Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter include:  
> mentions of child abuse  
> slavery  
> mistreatment of a disabled person  
> Jack Rackham talking in third person about himself, but that was fun to write ;)


	6. Chains of Stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter.
> 
> Thank you for reading this story. If you liked it, please leave a comment or a kudo. It means the world to me!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember to check the end notes for additional warnings, if you are easily triggered.

* * * Silver * * *

YES, a fucking bed, Silver though exhausted and didn’t bother to undress before he let himself fall unto the mattress. Only his weapons were laid on the small table next to it. The day had been too long and Silver had decided to take the offer for a small room with bed in an inn near the harbor.

He ought to go back to the _Walrus_ and sleep among the men. He had spent less time with them the last few weeks due to the many tasks in New Haven. Although they had placed capable people as headmen to oversee the repairs, new constructions, reorganizing the old plantations and the distribution of food and goods, it was still in its infancy. Small conflicts were due and it was part of his job to mediate between the parties together with Rackham and Madi.

Madi and her people had been a true blessing. Their experience in building a community from scratch had been invaluable and the work were done faster than they could have hoped for. No small thanks to Madi’s ability to communicate between the former slaves and the town people, which grew slowly closer. It was a process.

Flint was handling the organization of the military endeavors, sending Teach and Vane hunting while Mr. Scott and Captain Fraser and others were freeing more slaves. It were busy times to be sure. But that shouldn’t hinder him to spent time with his crew. His men had shown nothing but sympathy for the situation and had hardly complained to help with the building of a new nation instead of hunting. Soon enough the _Walrus_ would sail again anyway, as both he and Flint had decided that their men needed to remain fit for the coming battles.

It was only a matter of time, until England would react to their lost islands and the growing danger of a new nation of pirates and freed slaves. The loss of Havenfort alone was an affront against the king. The fact that he had lost the island to social vermin, who dared to defy him with every freed slave and every ship they captured, could only be met with brutal force. The delayed reaction was only due to several other issues the king had to deal with.

At least they had successfully isolated Nassau from any help and soon Wood Rogers would have to capitulate or risk the wrath of a hungry mob. According to Billy, that time would be sooner than later, as he and his men struggled with a tropic fever. Flint was near ecstatic.

The whole island was buzzing with euphoria. There was a sense of camaraderie between people, who had never seen eye to eye. In face of the current circumstances people were enormously generous and understanding, when it came to sharing. The air was full of promise. Nothing seemed out of reach and people trusted the council to do the impossible. They trusted him.

It was both gratifying and terrifying.

Everything could change quickly. An issue that was more than a small trouble or a fight among drunks could turn the atmosphere in an instant. Happy people were reasonable people to a degree. They had to ensure that this bliss lasted as long as possible to strengthen the community enough to withstand the bumps on the road that were certain to appear in the near future.

A year ago, he would have laughed at anyone implying Silver would become a living legend to thousands of peoples. Now it was his reality.

There just seemed to be no conversation, no gesture or step that wouldn’t be interpreted by the crowd. No action was meaningless, he guessed, if done by a living figurehead. The British feared him, while the citizen and pirates of New Haven loved and feared him. There was always an unnerving awe in their faces, when he approached them like any attention from Silver was some kind of blessing.

It freaked him out and he tried his best to act as normal and approachable as possible, often helping in the most mundane tasks to reestablish him as one of them. Silver had come too accustomed to belong to his crew than to be separated from them or to be put on a pedestrian. They could use Rackham for statures, thank you very much. The peacock would probably be enthralled by the idea.

He wondered what they would say, if they knew how very ordinary he was. How different they would see him, if they knew where he came from… what he was…

Stop this, Silver shut down his own line of thinking, as he felt his hands starting to shake.

He had to stop drifting to those shadows. All too often had he found himself caught up in memories he had thought buried under tons of other stories and names. It was done now. They were dead. He was alive. Even if the damn instigator of a Lord was still free. The men, who had tormented his childhood, had been judged by an outraged crowd like they deserved. They would never harm a child again, because – John Silver – had purified the darkness.

Silver breathed in and out, trying to quieten his uneven breathing.

You came too far to be scared of old baggage and to clink to absurd child play, he chastised himself. Reason was all he needed as a man to be soothed. Stories were nothing but tools to manipulate the perception of others, reshaping the world story for story.

It should mollify him more, but he could still feel the words on the tip of his tongue. Rolling his eyes, he made himself comfortable on the soft bed and closed his eyes.

Despite his exhaustion, sleep came slowly and denied him rest.

* * *

_The crack of a whip._

_Pain._

_“Will you repent for your sins, my child?”_

_The crack of a whip._

_Fear._

_“I’m here to serve, your grace.”_

_A hand traces the scars on his stump. There is no escape. He is back again. He is caged and he can’t run._

_“You will serve a very special clientele and you’ll serve as teacher to the young one’s.”_

_“I’ll do whatever your grace demands, but please don’t send me away”, he pleads._

_Laughter._

_A cold hand is caressing his face. “Why would I send my propriety away, child? You belong to me and now you know that there is no other place for you in this world but at my side, don’t you?”_

_“Only you, your grace.”_

_Pain._

_Fear._

_Darkness._

_Shame._

_Cold hands._

An icy shudder woke Silver and he panted as though he had been running. Turning his head Silver reassured himself that it had just been another dream. The sun hadn’t risen yet, but Silver knew that he wouldn’t fall asleep again. He grunted in frustration and bit his lip.

Another night without rest meant another day of constant tension and tiredness. People would soon begin to take notice and once they do, they would start to ask questions – that couldn’t happen. There were no answers Silver was willing to give. Worse still was that there were people on this island, who knew enough about the cause of his nightmares that they could pressure him into talking about it or would begin to pity him. So far no one except Flint had deduced his true connection to the monastery, at least no one, who had approached him about it. Rackham might have told Anne, but she hadn’t treated him any different. She had just taken hold of his hand, giving him a quick nod and shook his hand one day. It wasn’t any different than Vane and Teach had reacted. A simple sign of respect nothing more. They respected him now as an equal. The town people, the pirates and the Maroons all respected him. Silver couldn’t allow his current trouble to undermine his position.

Breathing in and out, Silver tried to stop the shaking that still lingered in his body. Each night the shaking got worse and that Silver didn’t understand. This shouldn’t still be happening. His plan had worked and they were dead. Brother Augustus and his pack were dead, rotting on the rocks before the town.

Silver had looked him in the eyes and hadn’t trembled before him. He had plotted his demise and played the game of his life… and he had won.

Playing a desperate fool, pleading to be taken back had been worth it. Taking the punishment had been worth it. Some hours of degrading treatment were nothing compared to the salvation of their wards and the death of those monsters.

Still trembling, Silver hopped to the small table with the basin to splash some water to his face. The cold water cleared his head somewhat and Silver sighed deeply, wishing to get some goddamn rest. One night of undisputed sleep was that too much to ask for?

Looking at his reflection on the water, Silver had to admit that there was no way he could cover how exhausted he truly was. The shadows under his eyes were too prominent and his whole posture screamed for anybody to hear – here, take him… he is the weak one…

Grinding his teeth, he hit the water with his open palm and splashed the water across the table.

It was all in his head, he reminded himself and tried to sooth his nerves. As long as you control yourself no one could break you. These dreams would soon end. Their source was eradicated from this world. You are safe, Silver told himself.

Silver counted to one hundred and concentrated on his breathing, until his body seized to shake. There was no point in trying to sleep again and so he hopped back to the bed to reattach his pet leg. He ought to have cleaned the stump before going to bed and before putting it back on, but he reasoned that it wouldn’t matter to leave it this once. He had become better at caring for it, since Madi’s intervention. Although it was mainly due to her and Flint’s continued supervision and less about his own desire to do so. At least the process was usually easier in New Haven and his stump was for once free from any infection and wounds. Not that it didn’t hurt, when he put to much strain on it, especially for a long period of time.

Taking his weapons, he contemplated what to do. It was still hours before the council meeting, but Silver needed to occupy his mind and so he decided to go to the harbor to make himself useful. There was always something to do at the harbor, no matter the hour.

The inn was still silent, when he made his way out to the main street that led down to the harbor. Silver took a minute to breath in the fresh morning air. There was hardly anyone up, which meant that he could walk without being bothered. The calmness of the otherwise busy town brought a measure of piece to his mind.

Assuaged Silver walked to the _Walrus_ , where he was met with some of the men, who were already sharing their breakfast on the pier. They were delighted to see him and ushered him to join them. Silver apologized for his time away from them but even DeGroot hushed him, “Don’t apologize for doing your job, Mr. Silver. You gave us all an option to build a home, now it is gotta be built.”

Joji and Dooley nodded and Silver accepted the bowl of porridge. It felt good to sit among his men and speak about nothing related to politics or warfare. Instead, he listened to small things that happened among the crew and to DeGroot’s endless pool of stories from his journeys across the sea.

Silver hadn’t realized how much he had missed it, missed them. The easy comradery between him and his men, who still treated him like a person rather than some weird legend. He hoped that they knew how grateful he was for their friendship.

Slowly the harbor and the town awoke and Joji and Dooley went back on the ship, while DeGroot eyed him with a side-glance, “You doing alright, Mr. Silver?”

“Well enough, Mr. DeGroot”, Silver replied, which made the older man huff, “Sure, Quartermaster. Just make sure you get some rest, before we sail again. Politics may be done half asleep but not piracy.”

“Duly noted, Mr. DeGroot”, Silver chuckled and didn’t take offense for once. DeGroot’s gruffness was familiar and he didn’t pity Silver. In fact, Silver was privily proud that DeGroot had adopted him into the crew at last. Part of him wondered whether that had something to do with the lessons he gave Silver in sailing.

Silver was about to ask, whether DeGroot would be free for another lesson soon, as the older man spoke up. “Ah, was about time.”

Confused, Silver followed his gaze to the cliffs, where the men from the monastery had been hung. Now the rotten corpses were put down and laid upon a pyre to be burned. Someone must have given that order and Silver wondered who it had been.

“It’s not good to let corpses hung too long, so they are taking them down to burn them”, spoke into Silver’s thoughts and he could feel the stare of the man.

For the past weeks he had come to the harbor each day to see them hung. Undeniable proof of his victory and soon they would be burned to ashes. The last remains of his past at long last buried. “Good”, Silver said and nodded with a deep growl.

“No one will miss the likes of them that’s for sure”, a new voice added and Jack Rackham stepped next to Silver.

“Mr. Rackham”, Mr. DeGroot greeted the man with a cordial nod, which was met by Rackham.

“Mr. DeGroot.”

DeGroot took it as sign to leave and went to his beloved _Walrus_ , while Silver stayed seated and continued to stare at the scene on the cliffs. He had no desire to speak with Rackham, but the man never took a hint to leave seriously and took a seat beside him. “I wrote some new articles for our constitution and would like your opinion on them before I present them to the council.”

“Of course”, Silver replied automatically, knowing that Rackham would harass him until he did look them over. It wasn’t like the constitution hadn’t been his idea and he had worked relentlessly with Jack to write the basic structure, not to mention a new law. Piece by piece their new world was written into being. A process that had exhilarated Silver so far. Each word shaping the world better than a story ever could.

But at this very moment Silver felt strangely hollow…

“Did it help?”, Rackham inquired, when Silver didn’t jump at the prospect and Silver forced himself to look at the captain, who nodded to the cliff. “To see them hang?”

“We were both there, when the mob enforced the judgment”, Silver reminded him and hoped to stop Rackham’s rare moment of empathy, which was likely more of a strategic concern anyway.

“There was no trial, so there was no judgement except the people’s outrage – which I supported with might and main, mind you”, Rackham clarified and hold up his hand in an appeasing gesture as though he had anything to fear from Silver. “I understood their view and their actions.”

A smirk played around the corners of Silver’s mouth. Rackham was despite his efforts to appear cunning never subtle. “But you feel the need to question mine?”

“I would never question the actions of Long John Silver, your memory is well known, my friend”, Rackham huffed and Silver rolled his eyes.

“What, then? Are you afraid that my shadow is too long to secure your place in history?”

“Oh, I will leave my imprint on this world”, Rackham assured him with a self-satisfied smile, before he grew serious. “No, I wonder about something else.”

Silver knew what was coming and he didn’t care much for the turn of his peaceful morning. If he ever wanted to bare himself in front of someone it would certainly not be Rackham. Not that Rackham shared his need for privacy or saw his question as impertinence.

Leaning forward on his arms on his knees, Rackham whispered imploringly, “Why did you go to the monastery?”

Two could play this game however and Silver merely shrugged his shoulders. “Because I wanted to uncover the truth about it. The people needed to know what was happening under their noses so that they could act.”

“But why go yourself?”, Rackham insisted as though it wasn’t clear as the day. “It baffles me, why you didn’t instigate their exposure by a third party. You risked a lot with that last act.”

Either he thought Silver was stupid or he was way more naïve than Silver had thought possible. Then again, he was possibly just more audacious than Silver had given him credit for. “It was safer this way, as I could ascertain that everything was going according to plan.”

“You knew they would hurt you”, Rackham said quietly and Silver knew that this was his actual reason for starting with the whole conversation. “You knew, who you had to face”, Rackham insisted and seemed truly puzzled. “Why did you want to face them?”

Silver leaned closer to him and patted him shortly on his shoulder, giving him a wide untroubled smile as fake as they came. “You’re such a smart man, Jack. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

* * * Flint * * *

Heaving himself over the rail of the _Walrus_ , he stepped on the ground of his ship for the first time in four days. Rebuilding an island and planning a war was hard work and an endless ocean of organizing and paper work. He was looking forward to sail again and escape all the bureaucracy.

“Captain”, DeGroot greeted him with his usual grumble. Flint couldn’t remember if he had ever seen him without a frown on his face. The lines on his forehead seemed to be forever ingrained. “The Quartermaster is already in your cabin with even more work”, the old shipmaster informed him and Flint saw a flicker of concern on the man’s face. “The boy looks tired, Captain.”

That didn’t surprise him. Silver had looked exhausted at this mornings council meeting and had barely spoken. For most of the time Silver had sat silently at the table and let his eyes wander to the window. His attention had clearly been somewhere else and Flint had known where, as he had been the one to order the corpses to be burned. He had meant to talk about it with Silver, but their duties had kept them on different parts of the islands for the last couple of days. Flint had been shocked, when he had seen the deep circles under his eyes and the faraway look. Something was amiss and it was all too clear to Flint, where the roots of Silver’s troubles came from. What had been even more concerning were Rackham’s continued glances towards Silver as though he had tried to figure out a riddle. Faced with DeGroot’s untypical expression of worry, Flint was now certain that they needed to talk.

Sadly, bringing Silver to talk about his own issues was a skill Flint had still to master.

Flint promised to look in on Silver and went to his cabin. Opening the door, Flint was greeted by an almost too adorable sight to be true. Silver had apparently worked at his desk, but had refrained from sitting on Flint’s chair and so had taken a chair to the other side of the table. It was unnecessary, of course, but Flint appreciated the gesture and observed how Silver’s back was moving up and down as he breathed without making a sound. For all his talent to attract attention, Silver tended to be quiet for most of the time, even in his sleep. No snoring or trashing around. Only in his drug induced sleep after the amputation had Silver spoken without cease. Now his head rested on the desk between his arms, his eyes completely covered by his mane of locks.

The conversation could wait, Flint decided. He was way too tired himself.

“John”, Flint said, but he didn’t stir. Stepping towards his sleeping quartermaster, Flint laid a gentle hand on Silver’s shoulder. “John, wake up.”

The reaction was as immediate as it was violent. With a gasp Silver was upright and had drawn his knife to Flint’s throat. Only his yearlong trained instincts were it to thank that Flint had been able to grab Silver’s wrist. “Easy!”, Flint said startled. “Easy, it’s just me.”

“I’m sorry, I…”, Silver replied shaken and lowered his knife down instantly. He was still trembling and Flint saw the fear still lingering in his eyes, as Silver searched for words. Instead of explaining his reaction however, Silver gestured to the desk. “I needed somewhere quiet to go over the latest articles Rackham wrote and I fell asleep. I hope you don’t mind that I used your desk to work and rest.”

“My desk is your desk or pillow, but as far as my experience goes, you’ll find my bed the more comfortable bedding and it is easier on the neck”, Flint replied forcing some levity back into his voice. He didn’t want to embarrass Silver by forcing the issue right now. 

As expected, Silver jumped at the opportunity to digest as quickly as possible from his dramatic reaction and chuckled, “Is that an offer?”

Flint let himself smile as he saw Silver’s provocative stare that would have him on his knees at any other time. “Yes, but only to sleep, mind you. My day was filled with way too many unreasonable people. I could fall asleep standing.”

“Any casualties?”, Silver asked and started to take off his coat and weapon, as Flint did the same.

Taking off his boots, Flint grimaced, remembering the arguments he had with two knuckleheads of incompetent captains. They sadly could not banish anyone simply for stupidity. New Haven was open to anyone, who abhorred their laws – even while the law was still being written. “Surprisingly, no. I’m getting better at controlling my impulse to strangle idiots. I even took your advice to heart and refrained from threatening with it.”

Silver huffed in disbelieve, while he was taken off his pet leg. “I bet there are at least four Captain’s on this island at the moment, who would beg to differ.”

“You wouldn’t lose that bet”, Flint conceded sheepishly. He knew very well that his temper was not suitable for longer arguments over foolish things.

Silver laughed and finally laid down beside him. It had been too long since they had shared a bed. Their duties had prevented them all too often from spending time together, since Flint had got his act together and made his desire known to Silver. The memory of that glorious night alone made his heart pound in his chest and he could not but let his gaze wander of Silver’s clothed body knowing what he looked like underneath.

Silver molded into his side and sighed contently, “Remind me to never instigate a revolution ever again. I’m not set out for hard work.”

“Will do as long as you remind me to never start a fucking war in the first place.”

“Promise”, Silver replied and his hand traced over Flint’s collarbone. “Maybe we should take an evening off?”

“A whole evening? Are you sure the island will still stand, when we leave it to Rackham and the rest of the council?” The idea to spent time with Silver was enticing, yet his conscientiousness held him back. It seemed selfish to indulge in his own needs, while things were still unstable. But Silver kissed his chest sensing his hesitation. “Madi is now part of it so, yes. I think we could risk it. A whole evening and the entire night, just you and me.”

Silver caught his eyes and the open wanton he saw in them made Flint smile warmly without any effort. “Is that a promise?”

“Hell, yes”, Silver breathed and raised himself up on his elbow to kiss him.

They kissed languidly without intention to go further just because they could and Flint loved every sweet brush of lips and intake of breath. With a last kiss to the corner of Silver’s mouth, Flint broke away and grinned, “Deal, tomorrow evening I’m all yours.”

“I only hope you’re a man of your word, word has it that Long John Silver has a fucking long memory and can appear from thin air at two places at the same time to enact his revenge”, Silver said with a mockingly threatening tone and Flint chuckled, before he kissed him again.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

* * *

“No, no… please, don’t… no… stop…”

Flint was abruptly awoken and sat up. Within seconds Flint was clear headed enough to register that Silver’s had moved away from him in his sleep and was now caught in what seemed to be one hell of a nightmare. John was almost hanging off the small bed and was in danger to fall down as he twitched relentlessly. He was muttering in his sleep, his face a grimace of fear.

“John! John”, Flint said and rushed to pull Silver back on the bed, before he fell down and possibly hurt himself. Despite the movement and calling, Silver was still trashing around, defending himself against unknown attackers.

“Wake up!” Flint shook him at his shoulders trying to break the fight within Silver’s mind. “John!”

With a jolt Silver was up nearly colliding with Flint, who had been bowed over him. Flint moved back and kept a grip on Silver’s shoulders, as he was still not quite awake yet. Taking Silver’s head in his hands, Flint tried to catch his eyes. “John, it’s alright”, he continued to murmur, until Silver’s gaze became clearer and his movements seized. Slowly the younger man’s breathing calmed and Silver’s hand came up to grasp on Flint’s wrists, while Flint let his thumbs caress Silver’s cheeks. “Easy.”

“Are you okay?”, Flint asked once Silver had sunk into himself and avoided his eyes, obviously embarrassed.

Flint saw how Silver was still slightly trembling as a deep flush spread out over his face. “I’m sorry that I woke you.” He spoke in such a shaken and quiet voice that Flint had to strain to hear him and it pained him to see him so unnecessarily abashed.

“Don’t worry about that”, Flint assured him in a soft tone and raised Silver’s chin up to meet his eyes. “I had my fair share of nightmares in my life. Dou you want to tell me what the nightmare was about?”

Silver shrugged in humiliation. “Silly stuff. I’ve half-forgotten it already.”

The lie was so blatant that Flint had to swallow a growl. It wouldn’t do him any good to start a fight with Silver at the moment, although he was set to have a thorough talk with him as soon as possible. Instead, he remained calm and let his hands glide down to Silver’s hands, which had fallen down on his legs. “John”, Flint implored and interlaced their fingers. “You don’t have to do that. If you don’t want to tell me, just say so. I understand. There is no reason to lie to me. We’re partners, aren’t we?”

Silver bit his lips, but nodded slowly. He quickly kissed Flint’s hand and finally searched for his gaze on his own. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, it’s just… new.”

“As I said, I understand”, Flint remined him and on an impulse laid back down on the bed. He opened his arm inviting him into his embrace. “Come here.”

For a second Flint feared that Silver would recoil and leave to sleep on the windowsill, but then Silver obliged and molded his body against Flint’s side. Flint’s arm encircled him and he gently stroked up and down Silver’s side and arms, while Silver laid his head on his shoulder sighing as the tension was slowly leaving his body. “Your shoulder is more comfortable than the desk.”

“Glad that I can be of help”, Flint replied and was relieved, when Silver stopped trembling and breathed even. Silver yawned and Flint could see his eyes closing. Now that Silver had calmed down, the exhaustion of the last days caught up with Silver and he was already half asleep once more, nightmare be damned.

“Mm”, Silver mumbled only half conscious. “Comfy.”

Flint couldn’t but chuckle, although he was too aware of this type of exhaustion not to be concerned how quickly Silver was falling asleep after such an intensive night terror. Silver grabbed him tighter and breathed in Flint’s scent, mumbling, “Safe.”

Flint was certain that Silver had already been half asleep, when he said it, not realizing what he had just admitted. Knowing about the orphanage, Flint couldn’t but worry. Who did he need protection from? Was it a person that got away, someone else from his past or were his memories his nemesis? Maybe he still feared that Lord? Flint had so many questions and no idea how to confront Silver about them without pushing him away. Only one thing Flint was cocksure about, he would keep Silver safe.

* * *

They didn’t talk that morning as both overslept and had to hurry to get to the council meeting. The day promised as much work as the last and Flint cursed under his breath, knowing that Silver’s day demanded the same from him. Flint assumed that Silver was likely relieved for the work. He knew how tempting it was to bury feelings and issues under an absurd workload, but Flint knew likewise how hard the fall could be, if you walked that path long enough.

Tonight, Flint planned to press the matter.

Part of him was disgruntled to use their free time to resolve this issue, especially as one conversation would hardly be enough – if he could get Silver to open up at the first try that is. But last night had only affirmed his estimation that Silver’s troubled mind had to be addressed. There was no way that Silver could carry on in this manner for any longer. What they would be facing in the next couple of months demanded their best and he feared for Silver’s safety, if he were to sail in such an exhausted state.

Naturally, Flint was grim the whole day. One of his discussions with Captain Granger ended in a heated argument over nothing, which led Rackham to take over before he lost complete control. It was late and Flint was angry enough to let Rackham’s intervention slide. Madi, who had witnessed the whole affair approached him in her usual composed way that spoke of her upbringings as future queen of her people.

True to her nature she didn’t chastise him. “I heard you and Silver plan to take the evening off?”

“Yes”, Flint admitted and tried to allay his fears about the upcoming conversation with Silver, though he had only a slim hope for it to remain just a conversation. Harsh screams and scorned accusations were way more likely.

“Good”, Madi replied and a small smile graced her mouth. “You two were working too much. You both need rest. Do you plan to spent the evening together?”

“That is the plan. I wanted to talk with Silver for a while now”, Flint said in a staid voice. He didn’t want to discuss something so private with her, as he hardly knew her as of yet. Although he had an inkling that she wouldn’t judge their relationship, Flint’s experiences warned him to display or even disclose it.

Madi seemed pleased by his words. “I hope you can talk some sense into him, Captain. He can be surprisingly stubborn and we need him all to function with more than just iron will. Maybe your partnership allows you to get through that peghead.”

“Let’s hope for the best”, Flint huffed and couldn’t shake the feeling that she already suspected that they were more than friends. Not that they had defined their newfound partnership or even spoken about it. That Flint had to add to the growing list of things to discuss.

Madi chuckled and gestured to the newly opened orphanage. “Last I heard, Silver wanted to visit the children. I wish you luck, Captain.”

Flint watched her go. The princess kept on to astonish him. Beside her calm authority the young woman was very perceptive and had a sense for right and wrong that reminded Flint of Thomas. What those two would have accomplished, if they had ever met. They would have liked each other, although they would have been bound to clash on occasion. Thomas had been too idealistic, which had cost him his life in the end. Madi on the other hand knew more of the dark side of the world and would have countered his most outlandish ideas. Maybe she would have been better suited to it than he.

The old wound pained him as he contemplated the idea. He had failed Thomas by forgetting what the world outside their peaceful home truly was like. It had taken so many mistakes and deaths, before he had reached the point, where Thomas’ dream was close to become reality. So many sacrifices, which would forever tarnish Flint’s soul. In the end, his success was possible because of one man and this man needed his help. He wouldn’t fail Silver. He couldn’t.

Flint sighed and turned his gaze away from Madi, who was talking with some farmers about creating more fields. If she had indeed guessed about their relationship, Flint was relative sure that she wouldn’t use it against them and that realization in on itself was staggering. He understood why Silver liked her so much. The Scotts had a truly remarkable daughter.

Steeling himself for his mission, Flint went down the road to the orphanage. It was one of the first things Silver and Rackham had insisted upon, when they had started with the residents of New Haven. Luckily, everyone agreed quickly and one of the houses for the British officers had quickly been remodeled to an orphanage. Now the freed children of the orphanage and the children from the streets had a home, which would be sustained by the newly built government by taxes. Flint had thought it would take more convincing, but due to the unique circumstances no one had dared to defy Silver on this point.

Flint couldn’t have thought of a better reuse of the former house of the noble officers. The house was big enough, had good a kitchen and a garden for the children to play. Madi was quick to find women among the freed slaves to take care of them and Flint had insisted on using the salon as a classroom. He wanted to ensure that they had an education and would be able to choose a profession, when they are old enough.

He could already hear laughter and music through the windows, but above all he heard a smooth voice singing. Walking closer to the door, he saw that some people had come inside the great foyer to listen to the music as well. Flint halted on the door steps as he saw the picture before him. Silver was sitting on a chair surrounded by children, who sat on the floor with big eyes and smiles on their faces, while the grown-ups were standing around them. His heart felt warmer as he observed Silver playing the guitar and singing some funny tune. His eyes were so alive and bright blue like the day Flint had first met him. It was so easy to get lost in the sight and to forget why Flint had come here in the first place.

How liberated Silver appeared, while he humored the children. Despite his redressing as pirate, Silver looked innocent and charming rather than the wild imposing figure he had tried to project as quartermaster. His whole demeanor was different and Flint absorbed every detail of this new side of Silver.

Hushed whispers alerted Flint of the people above him. There on the next floor were more children carefully peeping through the handrailing. It was all too visible that these children were from the orphanage. Not only were they underfed and some ill or hurt even more than the children from the streets, but it became apparent that those children were traumatized by their experiences. From what Flint had heard, the liberation of the children had been extremely difficult, as some of them had never lived outside the orphanage and their cages. These children had a hard time adjusting to the world at large and were easily scared and very distrustful, especially against men.

Madi had been outraged, when she had met them and understood the true extent of their neglect and abuse. She had been working here every day and kept a close eye on the progress of the new orphanage and their wards.

Flint couldn’t even begin to understand their torment and seeing their caution and obvious wonder about the sight downstairs felt like a kick in the chest.

Silver had been one of these children. Alone. Mistreated. Imprisoned. Imaging Silver in such a place caused him to choke. Silver, who thrived being around people, who needed others and wanted nothing but to belong, had lived years in isolation in which the only contact had been torture. It was unthinkable.

The sound of clasps and compliments startled Flint and he looked up to see Silver standing up and saying his goodbyes to the children. The adults left the building and the caretakers hurried the children to the beds. Silver looked up to the children above and wished them a good night. Some of them shied away from the handrail, but a few returned the wish tentatively. Flint wondered, when these children would learn to trust, if ever.

A tell-tale of thumbs alerted him to Silver’s approach and he returned his gaze to look at Silver’s inviting smile. “You’re really good, although I still want to hear you play the piano one day.”

“Mmh”, Silver mused in a mockingly serious tone, “I don’t know whether you have earned that privilege yet.”

Flint glanced around the now empty room and whispered, “I guess, I should concentrate all my focus on achieving that privilege then.”

“Nothing but words, Captain. I’m not that easy”, Silver said and stepped close enough that their shoulders brushed. “You’ll have to make good on your promise.”

It was so easy to flirt with Silver that Flint’s chest quelled over with anticipation. He only hoped that Silver would still want him, after he talked with him, preferably not in a months’ time. For now, they had to go somewhere more private.

“How about we return to the _Walrus_ and you can judge my attempts to gain your favor”, Flint countered with a voice that was huskier than it had been in years. Silver really brought out his playful side.

Silver nudged him with his shoulder, smiling like a cat that had got the cream, “Lead the way, then, Captain.”

Flint couldn’t hold back a chuckle and they made their way back to the _Walrus_.

Silver was on him the moment Flint bolted the door, taking him by his coat to the bed, while he kissed Flint senseless. Flint let himself be led as not to aggravate Silver’s stump by abruptly stopping, at least that was what Flint told himself – even, when Silver started to unclothe him and Flint lend a helping hand in ridding Silver from his clothes. It wouldn’t help, if Silver fell because he got tangled in his clothes, after all.

It wasn’t long before Flint was sitting on his bed with an eager Silver on his lap kissing and touching like they had been starved for each other.

In lieu of words Flint was moaning. Damn those responsive lips and lewdly sounds resonating through his being. His fingers moved into his pants and down between Silver’s cheeks to find him already lose and oiled. Drawing back, Flint was faced with a smirk that made his cock twitch in anticipation. “You came prepared”, Flint whispered taken aback by the sheer want in Silver’s eyes, who shrugged slightly abashed, before he laid his arms around Flint’s neck and rolled his hips down.

“I intent to not waste one fucking second with anything but you bringing me to the edge again and again.” His deep voice was husky and vibrated so deliciously through every fiber of his being.

“God”, Flint groaned. Silver had been right. He might very well be his end.

Silver only grinned, “John, will be fine.”

“Little shit”, Flint laughed and caught Silver in a searing kiss, before he could reply.

Despite his almost frantic enthusiasm Flint could feel the tension in Silver’s body. Silver kissed him like he was drowning and Flint was the only object keeping him afloat. It was too close to desperation for Flint’s liking and stirred him out of his lust-addled brain. This had been a bad idea.

“We…”, Flint started, but Silver cut him off, “We need to get you out of these trousers? Definitely.”

“No, John”, Flint said and kept Silver’s fingers from opening his trousers. “Stop, I need to speak with you”, he declared and caught Silver’s gaze, who looked less than pleased with this turn of events.

Flint set out to explain himself, but before he could utter a word a finger found its way to his lips hindering him from voicing any of his thoughts.

“Flint”, Silver said in expiration and stopped moving. “We finally have a moment to ourselves. If you don’t want to talk about how you will drive me to multiple orgasms, it will have to wait.”

“I certainly see your point”, Flint tried to sooth him, while standing by his resolution. “Yet, we need to talk.”

“No, absolutely not”, Silver snorted and laid his arms back around Flint’s neck. “We are always talking anyway.”

“Ships and town business.”

“And this conversation has to be now that we have a moment to ourselves, when I’m sitting on your lap half-naked?” Silver argued and Flint cursed his own damn weakness when it came to Silver’s perfect body. He shouldn’t have let it go this far. Damn he must be touch-starved…

“I didn’t realize how bad it’s got before.” The words were out before he realized he actually said them. The reaction was immediate and just as bad as he’d thought.

Silver froze and looked hurt, starring at him like he had slapped him. “I don’t believe this.”

“John”, Flint tried to reason with him, but before he could get a word out, Silver had heaved himself from his lap. Sitting next to him Silver grabbed his pet leg and started to retie the straps. His voice was clipped and spoke of barely hidden pain. “I told you I’m fine. I thought we are at a point, where we trust each other, but I was apparently wrong.”

His words cut like a knife. Yet, Flint knew that Silver was only lashing out as a defense mechanism. “That’s unfair and you know it.”

“I know that I wanted to be with you and not be lectured”, Silver countered cattish and fished for his shirt, which had fallen out of his reach.

Sighing, Flint stood up and picked it up. He wouldn’t force Silver to stay, no matter how much he wanted the stubborn bastard to confide in him. Dealing with Silver taught him a whole new appreciation for Miranda’s patience with him over the years. She would know what to say in this moment, but he wasn’t her. Despite Silver’s glare, Flint gently pulled the shirt over his head. “Denying the issue won’t help you”, he argued and held out his coat, which Silver took with a growl.

“That is rich coming from you.”

He had a point. That was the problem with arguing with someone, who knew your darkest secrets and weaknesses. “Exactly, I know what I’m talking about.” Silver stood up on wobbly legs and Flint reached out on instinct to balance him out. Holding his elbows, Flint caught his frustrated eyes. There was also anger there and pain, but mostly Flint saw shame and he hated to pressure Silver like this. Flint was all too familiar with the need to run from the suffocating feeling of self-doubt and hate. It didn’t matter, whether or not the feeling was justified – and it wasn’t – there was a place in the darkness that rejects any reason and drowns you in sorrow. Flint couldn’t bear to lose Silver to this darkness.

Strengthening his grip, Flint willed his support and his affection to transfer over his skin, imploring with touch and words in the hope that it would reach Silver in his distress. “I just want to help you, is that so hard to understand?”

For a second Flint saw the struggle in Silver. A part of him wanted to believe Flint, to trust in him, but trust didn’t come easy to Silver and Flint wasn’t surprised, when his face closed off and Silver pushed him away. “Is it so hard to understand that I neither need your help nor have I any wish to talk about it?”

It hurt. In spite of knowing exactly, why Silver was pushing him away, it hurt. Flint wanted nothing more than to take Silver into his arms, but his touch wasn’t welcome at this moment. Silver was drifting between the need to be hold and his instinct to run. It was written in his posture half turned to him, while his face was a forced mask of indifference. Seeing Silver struggling in such a way without the means to help him was devastating. “Don’t do that”, Flint pleaded in a broken tone and Silver twitched unsure.

“What?”, he asked and could hardly meet Flint’s gaze.

“Deflecting. You always do that”, Flint said without malice, but Silver scoffed, “Well, you don’t have the monopoly to this strategy, I’m afraid.”

With these words Silver pushed passed him and left the cabin, leaving Flint alone and full of regret and doubts.

* * * Silver * * *

Splicing ropes was thankfully easy work that could be done without much thought. After conversing with the council and introducing another new crew to the island, Silver had sat down to relax. His leg needed a break, although the stump was only lightly throbbing.

Some of the sailors had given him confused looks, when he had sat down on the ground, his back leaning at a house wall, and started to work on the ropes before him. It didn’t bother him. He was used to stares and more. So, what if he wanted to keep his hands busy? Stupid reputation or not, he was one of them. Their equal, a brother.

There was always work to be done. That was pretty much the only part of his role in this godforsaken war Silver could appreciate nowadays. Idle thinking and rest had to wait, until they won or he was dead. He obviously preferred the first option. He didn’t want to die, let alone die as martyr for the cause. Silver wasn’t Flint. He wasn’t driven by revenge and grief nor did he plan to go wander through the fricking world until he finds a place, where people mistake a paddle for a shovel.

Seriously, was there such a place?

It was of course a metaphor, but Flint seemed to perceive the whole world through metaphors. Paddles and shovels, storms and doldrums, darkness and light, Flint’s fake name – all shades of the same person, turned to the light or to the shadows, whenever his mood shifted.

Silver was sick and tired with Flint’s fickle moods. He honestly shouldn’t have been surprised by Flint’s latest stunt. It wasn’t the first time he had rejected Silver nor was it likely to be the last. Something was always hindering Flint to enjoy the damn moment, be it guilt, grief or concern.

Flint should know well enough to leave him alone. Silver didn’t need to be cared for, not because of this leg or…

He was fine.

The dreams would lessen. The sleep would cure his anxiety and tiredness. It was a familiar circle. There was nothing to be done about it. No talking would change what happened. Talking would only mean to relive it again, to rip open wounds that had long healed.

Who did Flint think he was, that Silver had to bare his soul to him?!

With more force than necessary Silver tightened the knot. The ropes at least didn’t question his sanity or wanted to talk about his feelings. When had his feelings ever mattered? The street didn’t know compassion. No one had ever held his hand and told him it would be okay.

Silver froze in his motion. That wasn’t true. Muldoon had held his hand, when they took his leg, as Silver had held his hand, when Muldoon…

He shook his head and kept on working.

Useless memories, he cursed under his breath. The past never offered anything good. Why pull it out, when it was better buried? Only that his memories had come back to life. They had walked right passed him. They had looked him in the eyes and…

Pull yourself together!, Silver thought and gritted his teeth hard enough that they hurt.

It was normal for those dreams to return in such a fashion. He had never gotten rid of them in the first place. Surely it made sense for them to reappear with such force. Another couple of weeks and he would be in control again. If there was one thing Silver knew without a doubt, it was that memories were nothing but stories and stories could be forgotten, replaced by new ones.

He gave the full harbor in front of him a short glance. No one could complain that they lived in boring times. Stories – damn history – was written in this very moment.

“Is splitting rope not below the king of the pirates?”, a refreshing amused voice startled Silver and he looked up to see Madi lowering herself down next to him.

“If we had a king, probably”, he scoffed. She knew that he didn’t see himself as a king and had taken precautions that their new world would never know a king in the future.

Madi just smiled and begun to splice another rope. “You’re overworking again.”

“Most of my work is done in a sitting position these days. My leg is fine”, Silver assured her and tried to keep his voice even. While he didn’t like to be reminded of his special needs, he knew that Madi didn’t ask out of pity.

“Still, you don’t seem to have had time to rest since you liberated this island”, she insisted.

That had him rolling his eyes. “I didn’t liberate the island, the people did.”

People really exaggerated his role in this revolution.

“You were the instigator and you are deflecting once more”, Madi countered and gave him a side glance. “Why don’t you want to rest, and don’t tell me you don’t have the luxury of time, I know better.”

Madi always knew too much. Silver had early on understood how dangerous she was. Despite her age she had an amazing understanding of people. One glance and she uncovered your secrets. Normally that would scare him – and truthfully it did – but she was likewise blessed with compassion and a quick wit that fascinated Silver too much to avoid her. “It was just really busy.”

His poor attempt of distraction earned him nothing but an exasperated sigh, “John.”

Silver shrugged and concentrated on his work. “I just want this war to be over as quickly as possible. The faster we accomplish order here, the faster we can solely focus on the other islands, freeing more folk and anticipate England’s or even Spain’s next move. There is still so much to be done, before we can rest.”

It didn’t come as a surprise that Madi was less than impressed by his reasoning. “Yes, all of that I know, just as you know that a war is not won overnight. We have accomplished so much in such a quick time already. You have done more than we could have ever asked of you. Why, then are you pushing yourself needlessly? What troubles your mind, my friend, that you want to run from it?”

“Has Flint set you up to this?”

“No”, she declined. “That wasn’t necessary. It is clear that something is troubling you and I guess it had something to do with that orphanage.”

“Did Rackham say anything?”

Her mouth twitched, suppressing a chuckle. “No, he was surprisingly short lipped about it, but the story is still traveling around the Caribbean and here are people, who have actually witnessed the beginning of the revolution.”

And wasn’t that the truth? It made Silver’s stomach turn. So many people now associated him with that place. Who knew how many would put two and two together? He had sadly not taken it into account. One of three instinctive actions he had ever done with vastly different outcomes, he thought miserably staring at his leg.

Like she could guess what plagued him, she said in her wonderful soft tone, “I don’t think that many have pieced everything together. They just believe that you have uncovered the truth about the place by luck or intelligence and that may be true, but I don’t think it is true.”

Breathing in and out Silver tried to remain calm. Madi wouldn’t see him any differently. He had to believe that. Wary with nerves Silver looked at her and searched for any ill intent or sign of disgust or pity. But all he saw was compassion and concern. Somehow that made it worse. Disgust and pity he could understand. It still seemed implausible that there were people in his life, who wouldn’t use the truth of his past against him.

He felt his hands starting to tremble and focused back on the ropes. Hardening his grasp so that his hands wouldn’t visibly shake. Even if the world had turned on its axis and Madi just wanted to offer her assistance as a friend like she had done with his infected stump, the mere idea to give voice to his buried stories was unthinkable. So, he snorted and chuckled dryly, “What do you want me to say? You and Flint, you both are pressuring for irrelevant information. None of it matters anymore. They are dead now. I enlisted a mob to kill them.”

“Is it irrelevant, if it is still haunting you?”, she inquired in an all too gentle voice.

He was no frightened child, not anymore. No one had cradled him then and he certainly didn’t need such treatment now. “It isn’t haunting me”, Silver insisted and hoped Madi would take the hint.

Naturally, he had used up all of his luck by instigating a revolution. Maybe he should try wearing a luck charm or throw some salt over his shoulders – if only he believed in such superstitious nonsense.

“You throw yourself into work and you have been avoiding Flint for the last couple of days. I assume he had the same intuition as I and confronted you about it, and now you rather spent your time splicing rope instead of being with your partner.”

Silver’s mouth twitched, “You make it sound like we are lovers.” What an unreasonable assumption, completely atypical for Madi. As if Flint could ever truly love him, he was still grieving Thomas and Miranda and he always would. Silver didn’t believe that there was enough space left in Flint’s heart for him. They had fun, an understanding to release the tension and fears of their situation, nothing more.

Not that Silver would want anything more.

“Are you not?”

“That would imply…”, Silver started, but Madi interrupted him, “John, please. I didn’t come here to coax you into a deep conversation about love and denial. I trust you both to figure this out on your own.” She reached out to place her hand over his. “But I am concerned about your wellbeing, if you continue on this path. We need you at your best and you look like you haven’t slept in weeks.”

“It will pass”, he assured her and swore to himself to make a better effort to look presentable. The last thing he needed was his own crew or even the council to notice that he was struggling. It was nothing, but he couldn’t risk appearing weak.

“You said the same about your infected leg and were wrong”, she countered stoic as ever, but he shook his head, “This is different. I dealt with these episodes my whole life, so believe me, if I say that I’m fine or very soon will be.”

She examined him with her soul-piercing gaze for the longest time, before she sighed. “You can be such an idiot sometimes, John Silver”, she said and stood up with more grace than Silver had ever had with two legs. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

* * *

“Mr. Silver.” Silver turned away from Madi to see Flint standing in the doorway of the townhall. “A word please.”

Silver had no desire to speak with Flint, especially when he was sporting this melancholy scowl that promised deep conversations. Standing amidst their allies however Silver felt compelled to uphold a united front and reluctantly stepped closer. “Yes, Captain?”

Flint sighed and pointed to the small carriage on the road behind him. “There is a matter I could need your help with. It is on the outskirts of the town though. Are you up for it?”

No, Silver cursed inwardly. I’m freaking exhausted and still pissed at you.

Naturally, he didn’t voice any of it out loud.

“Of course”, Silver replied and climbed slowly on the coach-box. Flint joined him swiftly and sat beside him, while Madi stepped outside the townhall. She wished them success and promised that she would assure the town would still be standing, when they came back.

Whatever the reason for this trip was, Silver suspected by Madi’s little smirk that she was involved, maybe even the driving force behind it. Silver was way too exhausted to argue with either of them and simply went along. He hoped that the fresh air would do him good. In the very least the travel might make him tired enough to finally get some much-needed sleep.

Silver was glad that Flint didn’t use the journey for small talk and remained blissfully silent. It was hard enough for Silver to concentrate on staying awake despite the bumpy ride. They rode for about three hours along the cost, before Flint stopped the carriage.

It was a remote place nothing more than a little cottage between the riffs. The thunder of the waves breaking on the rocks was loud enough that you could probably kill a man without anyone hearing him scream. It wasn’t the most comfortable thought to say the least, but Silver trusted Flint enough now that he was sure to be physically safe in his presence.

The secludedness of the place was however reason enough to be suspicious of Flint’s motives. He wanted some privacy that much was clear. The question that remained was what for.

Flint hoped down and heaved some sacks from the carriage, while Silver begrudgingly took his sweet time to climb down the damn thing. He didn’t believe that he would ever truly get use to being short one leg. It made everything just more complicated, occasional pain and fevers notwithstanding.

Silver felt every step towards the cottage like someone had put additional weights on his knees. A fine film of sweat was covering his back, when Silver reached the door and made a beeline for the next best chair. There were only two chairs, a table as well as a small fireplace and a single although big bed in the cottage. At any other time, he would have appreciated being alone with Flint and would have probably already started to undress the man. Now he was still angry with him and not inclined to humor him with even a civil conversation. Did he really think all it would take was a stay at a secluded house for Silver to open up and relive his past just because Flint degreed it necessary?

Flint in the meantime had laid the sacks on the table and was pulling out two swords and a crutch.

Silver gave the swords a doubting glance, “So, did you actually invite me here to train?”

“I just thought that we could both use some time away from everyone. Some fresh air, if you want. Not to mention that you probably got a bit rusty without any training in weeks. I want to make sure that you are prepared, when we sail again”, Flint explained and continued to unpack some food, dishes and blankets.

Flint had prepared for more than a day, it seemed. “Are you planning to stay here for a while?”

“I took the liberty to arrange everything with the council and DeGroot will look after the crew. Both the town and the _Walrus_ will be alright in our absence.” Flint said like it wasn’t close to a miracle for him to grant someone else control.

The implication wasn’t lost on Silver. “I understand your trust in DeGroot’s abilities, but you must be close to frightful of my health, if you are willing to leave the council in Rackham’s hands.”

“Rackham has Madi by his side. She will keep him grounded”, Flint countered unfaced. It was almost concerning to her something so reasonable out of his mouth that Silver suspected the worst for Flint’s intention.

“Cut the crap, Flint.” Silver was bristling with rage. Nothing of this was typical for Flint and it wasn’t hard to deduce, why he acted so uncharacteristically nonchalant about his absence from the town he had dreamed to build for years. Though part of him was mystified why Flint would consider Silver worth this trouble, he couldn’t stand this underserving form of paternalism. “What are we doing here? I made myself clear – I won’t talk about my past and I’ll be fine soon enough. Do you honestly intent on forcing me to stay here?”

The mere idea had him spitting nails. He wasn’t weak. Silver had taken care of himself since he could think. Whatever the reason may be for his current behavior, Flint had no clue what he was doing. Flint should know better. If he truly understood Silver as he liked to think, he would leave him the heck alone.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, then don’t. I won’t pressure you anymore”, Flint said instead, either completely unaware of Silver’s turmoil or he simply didn’t care about Silver’s opinion. Both options let Silver’s blood boil. That Flint showed no sign of irritation or impatience just fueled his anger. Flint’s voice was unnervingly calm, when he met Silver’s gaze. “But you need to rest and you need to train. So that is what we will do for the next couple of days or I will leave you here, when we sail again. I’m sure that the crew would agree with me that you look like hell and have to stay here in order to get your strength back.”

Silver snorted about the audacity. Leaving him. As if Silver was someone, he could just leave behind. Silver had worked too hard to be vital for the crew to be left behind.

Yet…

The crew had already expressed their concern about his health. If Billy were here, he wouldn’t stop pressuring him about needing to rest. It wasn’t impossible that Flint could persuade them to think it best for Silver to leave him here.

The thought hurt and Silver looked away from Flint’s imploring eyes. Silver wouldn’t show how much Flint’s insinuation pained him. Flint only recognized strength and nearly weeping, because he couldn’t stand the thought to be left behind would destroy the image Silver had fought for. One mistake was all it took and his position he had maintained for months now through immense pain and bloodshed would be lost. Silver would not lose his place among the crew, his place at Flint’s side. He had sacrificed too much for it.

Realizing that he had already been silent for too long, Silver huffed in amusement, “Don’t you think that training and resting counter themselves out?”

A small smirk played on Flint’s lips, “I think that physical exercise and an outlet for all your frustration might aid your sleep.”

“You rotten bastard”, Silver spit out and Flint laughed.

“I’ve been called worse.”

“By people you fuck, if your high morals don’t come in between you and release?”

“Yes”, Flint replied with mirth in his eyes and stood up, taking the swords in his hands. “Get ready, training starts now.”

The prospect of training was almost as appealing as a heart to heart about his past. But beggars can’t be choosers and Silver started to remove his pet leg.

It was embarrassing how slow Silver was. Every movement took all of his will. His body felt heavy and useless. Memories from the amputation threatened to overcome him as he battled his body, but it was a lost battle from the start. After only twenty minutes Silver was sweaty and could barely keep himself upright. Flint didn’t comment on it and simply ended the training early.

Silver hopped with his last ounce of strength to the cottage and leant back on the wall, sliding down to the ground. He was trembling and panting so hard that he had no energy left to tell Flint off, when he brought him a bucket of water and some racks to clean. He would have probably offered to help him, but a stern look from Silver stopped him short.

Flint just nodded and went inside. Silver heard through his pounding heart how Flint cleaned himself and then started to cut vegetables on the table. Soon enough a delicious smell of stew was in the air and Silver begrudgingly began to wash himself as best as he could at the moment.

Once he was done and had stopped shaking, Silver heaved himself up and hopped the last meters to a chair. Flint didn’t turn from the stove and simply filled to bowls with the food and sat beside Silver.

Although Silver was tired to the bones, he was starved and dived into the stew with vigor. It tasted great and Silver risked a glance to Flint, who was eating with more care. “Did you learn to cook in the Navy?”

“I had to earn every rank with hard work. In other words, yes. I had to do cooking duties more than once”, Flint replied and a small smile played on his lips. Silver knew that Flint was still proud of his achievements in the Navy.

“You’re good”, Silver offered and wished that his voice would be less rough.

Flint shrugged, “You’d be good, if you were taught. You learn everything quickly. I don’t see how cooking would be different.”

The compliment was given freely and it eased some of Silver frustration at least slightly. “Don’t tell me you want to teach me how to cook as well”, he tried for humor.

Flint chuckled and finally glanced at him, “No, fighting and sailing is more important right now. But I would like to teach you at some point. It is a useful skill.”

“If you have the means to cook that is”, Silver said without thinking and cursed his exhaustion. It wasn’t like Flint hadn’t an inkling how Silver had spent his childhood and the better part of his life in poverty, but he would not talk about it. Damn it.

Silver felt Flint’s gaze on him, as he softly said, “If we are lucky, people in our New World will never know hunger.”

“A nice thought”, Silver huffed, but couldn’t quite believe it. Life had taught him better than to believe in fairy tales. The world would always try to take from you that you had worked for. “At some point that thought will become a threat to other nations.”

“Then, she should better be prepared to defend our thought”, Flint countered as though he had anticipated his argument.

It wasn’t really a new topic between them and yet… Silver had never dared to truly question Flint’s grand dreams. Now all Silver could think about was how much they had already sacrificed and what more their fight would take from them. It was a bleak realization how unlikely their success was. Silver had suppressed the doubts for so long, but he lacked the strength to do so now. “Will there ever be peace? A time, when we can seize to fight for our lives?”

Flint nodded thoughtfully and took his time to answer. “The more people join us in our fight, the less people we have to defend ourselves from. If we can survive the first period of change, we will have proofed that our way of life is possible. Once this thought manifests in the heads of people around the world, the world itself will change and the fighting will seize.”

“That change will take years upon years, if it will come to pass at all”, Silver reminded him and tried to picture years of the last months. It made his stomach turn.

“At some point this nation won’t need us anymore to defend itself. More and more people will take up the fight for this dream and we can rest”, Flint argued and Silver didn’t miss that Flint not only spoke of a future for himself, but that he had included Silver in his future.

“Does that mean you actually see a future for yourself once more? A life free of blood and death?”

“I had lost hope to find peace for myself, but something changed my mind”, Flint said after a pause and held Silver’s gaze.

“What changed your mind?”

“You.”

Silver was astonished. Flint had said it without hesitation and there was no deceive in his eyes. It left Silver speechless, as he tried to come to terms with this turn of events. Was it possible that Flint saw in him more than a friend and a partner?

Before he could give voice to his questions, Flint sighed and stood up. “I’m tired. Do we have to rotate the rights to the bed or can we share?”

Silver shook his head sightly to clear his head and grinned, “We are adults, Captain. We can share a bed.”

Sharing a bed meant that they laid side by side as the bed was thankfully big enough and more comfortable than Flint’s bed on the ship. It also meant that Silver didn’t sleep and spent about three hours laying silent next to Flint. The fear of having another nightmare in Flint’s presence was stronger than even his exhaustion and kept him awake.

Flint as it happened was a light sleeper and too aware of his surroundings even while unconscious. It didn’t surprise Silver that Flint noticed the tensed body beside him and turned towards Silver. “Have you slept at all?”

“Sure”, Silver said and knew how ridiculous his answer was.

Instead of a dressing down, Flint just sighed and lifted his arm in invitation. “Come here.”

Silver didn’t believe that Flint would find it easier to sleep with Silver even closer to him nor that Silver would find it easier to sleep, but Flint insisted and Silver found himself spooned by Flint, his arm wrapped protectively around Silver’s middle.

He felt strangely safe in Flint’s arms, which seemed absurd. He had witnessed countless murders committed by these very hands that were now softly caressing his skin. Damn, the first time Silver had seen him Flint had crushed a man’s skull with a cannonball. His sense for self-preservation should tell him to flee, but all he felt was warmth from the body behind him and an unfamiliar feeling of calmness spreading through his chest.

Silver almost jumped out of the bed, when amidst his inner argument he realized that Flint had started to retell Don Quixote in a gentle tone nothing more than sonorous whisper behind him.

Turning his head back, Silver stared at Flint. “What are you doing?”

“I find a good story soothing, now close your eyes”, Flint offered with a small smile and Silver found himself back on that windowsill. In his fever dreams he had reverted back to his childhood and cited every story he had every heard to sooth his fears and pains. Flint must have heard him. Silver had suspected it, but Flint had never said a word about it.

Silver couldn’t fathom why Flint would do this for him, cradling him without any pity but with acceptance, when he should be disgusted by Silver’s weakness.

For all his self-prided quick wit Silver was faced with something he had never experienced, but his mind returned to the only explanation he could deduce – Flint loved him.

It seemed implausible. Yet,… Wasn’t caring for another despite any struggles exactly what all these great love stories he had read as a child been about?

Was it true?, Silver thought half in a daze. Did Flint have feelings for him that went deeper than friendship? If that was the case, what was Silver supposed to do? The concept to be cared for by someone in such a way was foreign and Silver found himself at a loss.

“Stop thinking, relax”, Flint murmured and kissed his shoulder, before he continued to retell Don Quixote.

Deeply confused Silver lait back and Flint arms pulled him closer to his chest. Minutes after minutes Flint kept speaking, while the words vibrated through his chest and into Silver’s very being. Every word stripped some of his fright off and Silver got lost in the warm timbre of Flint’s voice. Ever so slowly Silver relaxed and closed his eyes.

* * *

When he woke up, it was to the sunlight shining brightly into the window and even from the bed Silver could tell that it was late.

“Fuck”, Silver muttered under his breath. “It’s noon.”

Flint chuckled behind him, “We both needed the sleep.”

His pride wouldn’t let him voice his gratitude, so Silver took the hand that was resting on his stomach and kissed it gently, hoping that Flint would understand. Based on the soft kiss on his shoulder, Flint knew what Silver couldn’t say in words.

He hadn’t dreamed. For the first time in weeks Silver had not screamed in terror or nearly fell out of his bed covered in sweat.

Flint rubbed his arm and kissed his cheek and yet it didn’t feel threatening. He wasn’t held down. The touch was gentle, a caress that spoke from support and safety instead of force and violence. How Silver could deserve this he didn’t know, but he wished that he could stay here in this moment forever far away from war and death… far away from the terrors that haunted him.

There was no question that this was just a respite, before his demons would find him again. Nothing good had ever stayed long in his life. Why would this be any different?

The gentle swap of a thumb against his wet cheek alerted Silver that he had started to cry. He hadn’t even released it. Embarrassed Silver turned his head into the pillow, but Flint rolled him towards him. His hands framed Silver’s face with the softest touch as if he held something precious and not a damaged broken child.

Unable to look into Flint’s understanding eyes, Silver closed his. Flint would recognize his misjudgment, if he looked to closely and Silver had no energy to hide behind one of his masks. This moment was too precious to stain it with lies, but he couldn’t stomach the truth either, nor the fallout, if Flint would undoubtedly reject him.

Firm lips ghosted over his lips in a question and a better man might have stopped Flint, but Silver wasn’t a good man. With a desperation that took even Silver by surprise, he dived into a deep kiss that was all tongue and hungry gasps. He needed to feel Flint and pulled him against his body. Flint’s hands wandered into Silver’s hair and guided his head to slow down the kiss. At first, Silver tried to heat it up again, but Flint gently insisted on keeping the kiss unbearable sweet. No word was spoken and no force was used only tender affectionateness. Every trace of his hands and every kiss of his lips was deliberate but delicate like Flint wanted to ground him, reassuring Silver that this was real and not a fleeting dream.

It overwhelmed Silver. Forlorn in gentleness and devotion was an entire new state of being. Tears were threatening to bare him further as though he had any more to give and those clever lips stopped them on their way down his cheeks with featherlight kisses. Silver gasped and Flint leaned back to meet his gaze, his hands cupping Silver’s face.

“There you are”, Flint said a moonstruck smile on his face. “I missed you.”

Words eluded Silver, as he saw what he had only suspected reflected in those inviting green eyes – love – Silver wondered. He loves me.

There were too many emotions battling inside his chest to make sense of the situation, but they needed an outlet and so Silver took hold on Flint’s neck to pull him back into a languid kiss. Flint indulged him for minutes, before he nipped at Silver’s earlobe. “Breakfast?”

Silver could only nod, missing Flint’s warmth the moment he stood up.

This complicated things.

* * *

Silver was lost.

While it hurt to admit that even to himself, there was no other way to describe the inner turmoil he was fighting.

Silver had spent breakfast in a weird trance-like state, while he talked with Flint and ate without thinking. His thoughts had been spiraling from Flint’s support to brother Augustus, from Dufrense to Madi, from the cold darkness of the cage he had lived in as child to the dangers of the street, from Marcel to the pain of the amputation and right back to Flint’s retelling of Don Quixote.

Flint had been playful but had stayed at a distance as though he realized how fragile Silver’s mind was.

Nothing made sense, least of all Flint. His smiles and his kisses. The patience and the comfort. It felt like a dream, had to be a dream, but he had yet to wake up.

Silver didn’t understand the nature of this dream. Why would he envision a caring Flint? Silver didn’t need him. He didn’t need anybody. Dependency was a path to ruin. Once you rely on people there was no going back. You get used to people’s support, to being cared for and then they leave you… and they always leave you. You are left with a hole in your chest that yearns for impossibilities.

Flint was the best example for it. His grief and desperation had torn him to pieces. A broken being that numbed the pain with rage. The only driving force keeping Flint sane was his goal to fulfill Thomas’ dream, even if it meant to fight a war.

Yet, Silver remembered loving arms and eyes full of passion and affection. That man was not broken nor consumed by grief. Flint had been reverend in his attentions, marking Silver as something precious. It was a fool’s mistake that just proofed Silver’s reasoning. Flint was so desperate to regain an intimate connection that he misjudged Silver’s worth. He only saw what he wanted to see and soon enough Flint would realize it and where would that leave Silver? Alone. No, Silver could never fill that hole in Flint. He wasn’t like Thomas or Miranda. He would never be enough.

The bleak realization hurt more than Silver was ready to admit and Silver feared that he was already in too deep. Panic was crawling through his skin as he questioned whether it was too late. Had he already fallen for Flint? Was there no escape?

“Are you alright?” Flint’s voice startled him and Silver swallowed through the lump in his throat and nodded, “Fine.”

Flint seemed less than convinced, but held up the two swords in his hands. “Would you like to continue your training?”

Silver doubted that he could concentrate enough to remember breathing let alone sword fighting, but maybe it would wake him from this dreadful trance. He agreed and followed Flint behind the cottage, where they had been training. This would either help him or cost him another limb. He hoped for the first, while he tried to avoid thinking about the first time someone hold a knife to his throat.

Shaking his head, Silver took the sword from Flint and tried to focus on the task at hand. Belatedly Silver remembered that he was supposed to use the crutch for training and wanted to return to the house, before he noticed that he was already walking with the crutch, because he hadn’t put on the pet leg in the first place. Shocked about his own unawareness, he stared down at his hand gripping the crutch.

“Are you sure you up for this?”, Flint said his voice filled with concern, which just made Silver growl, “Of course, I’m up for it.”

But, damn it. He wasn’t.

His head hurt and he was completely off balance as images flashed in front of his eyes. Tattooed men eying him, searching for a reason to seclude him. The pitiful screams of the child next to him that hadn’t passed the examination.

A hand griped him, as he was stumbling and Silver jerked away out of reflex, but another arm wrapped itself around his waist. In his desperation Silver threw his weight against his attacker and they tumbled to the ground.

Near panic Silver fumbled for his weapon. When he could finally reach it, he swung the hold against his attacker, who let go of him with a grunt.

Images of a red curtain blinded him and he nearly fell, as he was trying to stand up. Laughter was drowning out every other sound and Silver wanted to scream. Hands were trying to hold him again and Silver swung his sword around himself.

Couldn’t they leave him alone?!

He wouldn’t submit. Never again…

Hands were grasping his arm.

No, Silver cursed under his breath and attacked blindly the man before him. He was not weak! He was a survivor. He would survive this!

His attack was parried and Silver tumbled once more.

Merciless arms dragged him over the cold ground.

Someone said something.

Silver struck out once more and nearly threw himself off balance.

Why was he so off balance?

The voice grew louder.

Laughter.

Cussing.

Threats.

Hands were gripping him and Silver screamed, throwing himself against his attacker.

They rolled around in the dirt.

The smell of moist air and blood filled him with panic.

A heavy weight was pushing him down.

No! Not again!

Silver tried to push him off, but he wouldn’t budge an inch.

He was not strong enough…

Oh God… he was not strong enough…

A sharp pain radiated through his cheek and with a jolt Silver was clear headed and stared at Flint, who was half laying on top of him. His captain seemed deeply troubled and a small cut on his forehead was bleeding. Looking around Silver couldn’t see another soul. There had been no attacker, instead Silver had attacked Flint.

He did that, Silver realized close to fear. Never had he lost control like that. He would be dead already, if he was still…

Shit!

“I’m”, Silver started and wished to be swallowed by the ground. “I’m sorry”, he pressed out and cursed his debility. These fucking memories!

Why was this happening?! It made no sense. He was safe. They were gone. Flint was here and would protect him. His crew would protect him.

“No”, Silver muttered. No one would protect him. He did not need protection, only the frail one’s needed it and they were all already dead.

Flint was talking to him, but Silver shook his head.

Silver was the master of his story. He controlled the narrative. He formed reality to his liking. This should not be happening.

Why the fuck did his memories have to be the only stories Silver could not rewrite?

* * * Flint * * *

Flint was lost.

To say that he was disturbed by what happened would be an understatement. Silver was not prone for violence, but the panic fueled rage he had seen in his eyes, as he had blindly fought off attackers from his past had been illuminating. It was devastating to see Silver tormented by the echoes of his demons, but it had to be suspected. Flint had known even before New Haven that Silver’s mask of indifferent optimism and constant self-control was just an act. The monastery had opened his eyes to the true depth of Silver’s pains.

It must have been anguish for Silver to be associated with the place, though few would make the right connection to Silver’s own past. Part of him had wished that the victory over his demons would have brought Silver peace, but the last weeks had proofed his hope futile.

Some monsters would never seize hunting you, if you don’t face them. Silver’s faced them head on and had triumphed over them, but that victory had only been over their bodies. Deep wounds had been clawed into his soul, festering for years. Such wounds needed to be ripped open sometimes to finally heal.

Flint had hoped to either sooth Silver during their time together or pull the issues to the forefront. Memories were often unpredictable and could cause harm just as they could bring relief. Some were so fragile precious little things that a light gust of wind could flow them away. Others yet, were monstrous reminders that could haunt you for the rest of your life. Flint knew both intimately and carried their burden and their joy with him. He had learned to use them as a constant source of motivation. Silver on the other hand had tried to run from them, bury them under a mountain of new memories, new experiences.

Now Silver had to deal with them, whether he liked it or not.

Flint was scared how this experience would change Silver. If he wasn’t strong enough to deal with it, those memories could destroy him. The thought alone was like a knife to the heart. He had just found him and was not ready to lose him. Flint had lost so much. Another loss might be the last straw to madness.

He shook his head.

No, he reasoned. Silver was strong and resilient. He would come through this and be all the stronger for it. Flint had to believe in this, in him.

Taking a deep breath to prepare, Flint vowed to help Silver. He wouldn’t leave him alone trapped in the dark. It was time to break the chains that bound Silver to his past.

Determined Flint set out to meet his partner in the darkness and walked to the cottage, in which Silver had fallen after he had come to himself.

There in the corner sat Silver behind the bed hidden from the world. His arms were wrapped around his good leg, while his stump was half obscured by his other leg. Eyes unseeing, he stared at the floor and his head too heavy to carry was resting against the bedframe. In this moment the pirate king looked so much like a child that Flint grimaced at the sight, once again reminded how very young Silver was. So young and yet, he was carrying a burden others would have already been crushed under.

Carefully as not to spook him, Flint sat next to him at the bedside. 

“Long John Silver, the pirate king, who comes from nothing, who belongs to nothing… who is no one…”, Silver’s voice echoed in a whisper through the empty cottage. “Billy doesn’t even know how right he was, when he invented this persona and I hope he never knows.”

Flint hadn’t expected for Silver to share his thoughts on his own, but by the look of it, Silver’s demons had finally overwhelmed him and all the bottled-up emotions were spilling out of him.

“I can’t sleep and yet… even, when I’m awake I’m dreaming.” His voice was so small, so different from his usual smooth and firm voice.

“I know”, Flint said and struggled to refrain from touching Silver. No matter how much Flint wanted to comfort him, Silver needed to put his torments into words in his own time.

A shudder went through Silver’s body. “I’m scared”, he admitted and it broke Flint’s heart.

“Of course, you’re scared, you’re smart not to mention human after all.”

At his words Silver snorted and bit his lips. “There had been a time, when I wasn’t even that.” There was such distain and bitterness in his voice that Flint was reduced to silence. He barely dared to look at Silver as not to scare him off, but Silver was still staring into the ground, his eyes turned inwards back to a past he had tried to distance himself from.

“None of us had a name, but the older ones had numbers. Not that numbers are names and yet… I envied them as I had not even that. I was _you_ , _mongrel_ , _brat_ , _bastard_ … _nothing_. They called me many things, none of which a name that would mark me as a person. I was told that my mother sold me to Lord Chapman, when I was just a few days old. A whore, who couldn’t afford another mouth to feed. If she gave me a name, I don’t know it. I was never gifted a name.”

For a moment Flint was thrown through a loop. Silver was really talking about it. The joy of being trusted in such a fashion was dulled however by the knowledge of Silver’s pain. It didn’t matter that he had partially known what Silver had been through, when he was nothing but a child. Knowing in an abstract manner of a passed injustice was one thing, actually hearing it from Silver’s perspective was another thing entirely.

“There were rules, many rules, but the main among them that you never speak, if not asked, you do not scream, if it’s not demanded and you do not cry. If you do… they punish you. If you’re sick or were seen to be weak. you were useless to them and then they…”, Silver halted and bit his lips again, as though he tried to hold back the words that were now bleeding out of him.

“Some of the customers paid for… executing the punishment. Session of no… restrictions. Those were sometimes shown to us. As warning. But if you’re good, you’re rewarded. They don’t hurt you and if you are smart, they let you learn from the older ones. Mostly languages, dancing, music. The customers thought it entertaining to see us doing tricks… like we were trained dogs or something. In many ways we were, I guess.”

Flint had to swallow bile. He had experienced the cruelty of the upper class, but this shocked even him.

A shuddering breath escaped Silver and his hands started to shake. “That was all I knew. So, I did was I was told. I behaved and was quick to learn. Languages and music came naturally to me and I loved it. I loved to learn. That was the only thing…” Silver closed his eyes, though it couldn’t keep the memories at bay. Flint could see the shame in his posture and hear it in his voice.

“I learned so fast that Lord Chapman had high hopes of selling me for a fortune. I was already making him a fortune by entertaining his nobles by reciting poems, singing and playing the piano. I was a pretty doll that learned to talk like them to amuse them. He granted me a little book, full of fairy tales.” At this his voice changed and became almost wistful. “It became everything to me. I read and reread it, until I could recite it by memory. I was afraid that he would take it away from me and then I would be alone again. But in those stories were other people, often children like me. Lost and alone, but they were found, you see. In those stories there was magic, but also a connection to the world outside of the monastery… It became my anchor. If something bad was happening, I would recite them, imagining me in those magical worlds. When the book was indeed taken from me, I still had it with me and I would make new stories based on them. Stories, in which I had a mother and a father. Sometimes I had siblings. I would have a bed, food, warmth and friends… I would have a name.”

Flint’s hands were balled into fists, as he tried to keep his rage under control. Being killed by an angry mob seemed too easy a fate for those monsters. That circle of abuse, pain and death had been enacted for years and who knew, if that Lord would reopen it somewhere else. He had escaped justice and Flint felt a strong urge to hunt him down right to the Buckingham Palace if need be.

Pictures of a young frightened Silver forced themselves upon his eyes. It was devastating to imagine a child growing up under these circumstances. It explained many mannerism and character traits Flint had observed by Silver and he understood, how revealing his story was to who he was today. Someone as bright and lively as Silver thrived among people and acceptance. All things he was deprived of as a child and his rage over this injustice threatened to overwhelm Flint, but he pushed it out of his mind. His wrath had no place here. For now, his role was to listen and hopefully to catch Silver, if he were to fall.

He watched as Silver started to fiddle with his hands to keep them from shaking. Otherwise, he showed no sign of his inner battle with his demons. He still seemed collected, although far away with his thoughts. If not for his broken voice, one could brush his words off as just another tale.

“I can’t tell you a concrete moment, when I realized that it didn’t have to be this way, that the thought of escaping that hell, the only life I had known even crossed my mind. But at some point, I became obsessed with the idea of getting out of the cages. I wanted to see what was behind those walls… I wanted… I wanted a name. I wanted to be someone, a person and not a pet. A person was free to walk out of the building and every person had a name. So, I gave me one.”

Flint chuckled slightly, when he deduced Silver’s first name. “Solomon Little.” It made sense. Flint had previously thought it the name of a sibling or a friend, but it had been Silver’s first name.

“I know”, Silver huffed. “I guess the first name just sticks with you. I didn’t even realize that the name had some repercussion. Antisemitism was a foreign concept to me as was pretty much everything else. But it gave me a purpose, a goal and I worked towards it.” A small satisfied grin played on his lips and it did wonders to ease some of Flint’s worry. It was the first sign of true emotion on Silver’s face and it wasn’t of pain.

“I endeared myself to a stupid narcissistic Earl, who had shown interest in buying me permanently. It was surprisingly easy to persuade him to do that without actually voicing the idea. One thing I learned was to read people, to anticipate what they needed and how I could fill that need to manipulate them. Normally, it just served to lessen their urge to hurt me. Then, however, I played someone for the first time. I manipulated a person to change my fucking reality. I was writing my own story.”

There was pride in his eyes and Flint felt awed by Silver’s intellect and resilience. How could anyone believe this man to be nothing? Even though Flint had thought him a little shit in the beginning of their acquaintance, he had never doubted his spirit and adaptivity. Over the course of the past months Silver had proofed this time and again. It assured Flint that Silver would overcome this as well.

“Then came the day I was sat into a carriage riding outside the gate. I waited for the right moment to make my escape. He didn’t see it coming, as I had always done what I was told. I run and I run, until I collapsed on some field.” A wonderous expression graced Silver’s face, as he turned to Flint and caught his gaze. “Do you remember the first time you felt gras under your feet or saw the open sky?”

Flint could only shake his head. He had always taken these things for granted. There was no wonder in normality or so Flint had thought, but to experience these things for the first time with full awareness… it must have been inebriating.

“Yes”, Silver answered, effortless reading his mind like so many times before. “I do remember, when I realized it. I was laying on gras between fields. I was looking into the clouded sky, completely unobscured by walls or bars. I can’t describe the feeling… I was drunk on all the impressions. For weeks I walked through this world I only knew from stories. I was walking through a story, through my story… Nothing seemed impossible in that moment.”

Silver huffed and shook his head, while he chuckled and his face closed off once more. He looked forlorn and worn out. “I was so naïve back then. I had no idea how the world worked and truth be told it was sheer luck that I survived the first months. Instead of magical guardians I encountered unforgiving laws and the brutality of the streets. There were no welcoming strangers, who adopted me into their family. There was only the bitter cold and the hunger of poverty. I had to learn how the world and most importantly how people worked, if I wanted to survive and believe me, I made so many mistakes in the beginning that they could have easily costed me my life. Yet, I understood then, that if I ever wanted to find my happy ending, I needed to fight for it. No one would help me and no one would ever care about me. For the world I was nothing.”

Aghast by the bleak resignation of Silver’s words, Flint turned closer to him. “If you were a nothing, you would have died. Yet, you claimed the right to live and the right to a name”, he stressed and took Silver’s hands in his. “No one can take that knowledge from you.”

Never had Flint felt so much aligned with another person – not even with Thomas, who would always be his idealistic dreamer, the person, who made him a better person and who he would love forever. Silver was no idealistic dreamer. The world hadn’t allowed him to become one. He saw the world with all its shadows and had still managed to preserve a light within him that Flint wanted cherish and nourish.

Hesitating out of fear of rejection, Flint gently kissed the shaking hands in his. “I know you can’t truly believe it, but you are no longer alone, John Silver.” Flint wished for nothing more in this moment than to share his heart with Silver. His heart would speak words that escaped his tongue, convincing me man beside him of his love.

For his words were met with doubt so plain in those blue stormy seas, which wanted to believe but dared not to hope for what he was taught was impossible. Carefully, Flint lifted his left hand to cup Silver’s face. “I’m right here and I won’t leave your side, until you tell me to.”

Not three months ago, the truth of his vow would have rattled him enough to shun Silver or even flee altogether, and while it still scared him, Flint knew their places were at each other’s sides. Whether as friends and partners or as true companions would be Silver’s decision, but he made his choice and felt a long-missed peace with the realization.

“But I’m broken”, Silver sobbed in disbelief and Flint winced hearing it and saw how moist his eyes were, how full of pain and shame. Silver shook his head unable to accept Flint’s words or his inability to let go of his trauma. “I slew the fucking dragon so that it could never haunt me again, but the darn act just brought it all down and now… it’s just there. It’s always right there.”

It was like a damn had broken and Silver was no longer able to hold anything back.

“That was never supposed to happen. My past was supposed to be buried under those bastard’s corpses so that I can get my happy ever after and… I know that it doesn’t make any sense”, Silver heaved, his body trembling in his attempt to restrain his emotions to the frame of a distanced story losing with every breath he took, “But it does make sense, it has to make sense, because if it doesn’t… it hurts. It fucking hurts…”

His voice finally breaking, Flint witnessed tears running down Silver’s cheeks as he tried to keep it together. As a drop fell on his hands Silver startled and guided his fingers to his now wet cheeks. Holding his fingers up in a trance, Silver stared frightened at the teardrops on his fingers as though his mind had betrayed him at last in displaying the storm inside his heart to the world.

Something broke deep in Flint’s soul, something he had thought long lost to the fire of his rage and his arms made to hold the man before him. Flint kissed the tear-stained cheeks and wrapped Silver in his arms. Silver tried to push him off and turned his head away in shame, but Flint wasn’t having it.

“You aren’t broken, John. You’re hurt and I know how it feels to be lost in pain, but you are not alone. Listen to my words and trust that I’m here”, Flint said and turned his head back to face him.

Silver stared at him searching for deceit and finding nothing but truth. Another sob escaped his lips and then he was in Flint’s arms. Crying tears that had suffocated him for years, hanging onto Flint for dear life.

* * * Epilogue * * *

“You promise me a whole day and a whole night of your company?”, Silver asked and cuddled up closer into Flint’s arms.

They were sitting on a cliff watching the sun rise over the city. The _Walrus_ was anchoring in the harbor, after their first successful hunt since they liberated New Hafen. Flint had wanted to go to bed, when they had reached their new home in the early morning hour, but Silver had dragged him up the cliff to see the light slowly revealing what they had built together.

Their new flag hanging proudly over the roofs of New Haven. The skull over two crossed bones had been Rackham’s idea and was testament that there was light in the darkness leading the way for freedom.

“I said so, didn’t I?”, Flint retorted and he could feel Silver’s chuckle vibrating through his chest. “Last I checked, you had promised me once a free evening full of passion, but ruined the mood with nosy questions.”

“Unforgivable”, Flint agreed and played with one of his locks, turning it around his finger. “You as Quartermaster should punish me.”

“I’d rather reward you“, Silver hummed.

“How would you reward me?”

“How would you like to be rewarded?”, Silver purred and a smirk played at his lips.

Flint kissed Silver’s mane and whispered into his ear, “I want you inside of me and I want to wake up next to you.”

That made Silver turn his head in surprise. “You’re sure?”

“Yes”, Flint chuckled and found himself kissed deeply by Silver.

They kissed without hurry, until Silver leant back into Flint’s arms with a content sigh.

“I can’t promise that I won’t dream”, Silver confessed cautiously, after a few minutes and seemed torn between agreeing and hiding away.

Flint had known that it would take time for Silver to truly come to terms with what happened to him as a child. These things weren’t cured by a talk, but he was relieved to witness the obvious change over the last two months. For one Silver had slept more and looked more rested. He was more light-heartened and more open with Flint and Madi. There were bad days, of course. Days and nights that rattled Silver, but those days became increasingly less often. It seemed like a great burden had been lifted from Silver and Flint was happier for it.

“Neither can I”, Flint admitted and caressed Silver’s arm with gentle strokes of his thumb.

“You never said anything, when I woke you after Charlestown”, he reminded Silver and Silver shrugged, “You never mentioned my rumblings.”

It dawned on Flint how many arguments and issues they could have avoided, if they had only communicated better, but that was water under the bridge. “Maybe we should have talked to each other, or maybe it had been exactly what we had needed at the time. It doesn’t matter now.”

“Where does that leave us?”

“Right here”, Flint said and breathed easily, when he felt a peace he had long considered out of his reach. “At a place, where neither of us has to shy away from the other because we know the names of the demons that bound us and can help to keep the other safe.”

Silver nodded lightly. “Know no shame.”

“Know no shame”, Flint agreed.

Silver turned around once more and kissed him softly on the mouth, his eyes sparkling. “Then let us break free from our chains.”

The end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter include,  
> a character remembers physical and psychological abuse  
> a character attacks another character while he is trapped in a flashback
> 
> PS, I'm considering to write a sequel for this story. What do you think?


End file.
